Four Anthems: The 21st Hunger Games
by TheRealMrPotter
Summary: A brother to avenge, a destiny to escape, a family to protect, a reputation to uphold.  Four people, with four different anthems, will enter the Games, but only one will play on.  Let it begin.
1. A House Stands Empty

**Hello, readers! I've decided to take on a Hunger Games story. This won't be like most. I don't accept tributes or sponsors, but I will respond to your reviews. If you like a character, I may keep them around longer. And I may periodically ask your opinions on things. But first, enjoy the first chapter of Four Anthems!**

**Archer Barkley, District 7**

This was not how Archer had pictured his day going. In his mind, he would have awoken to a bright sun, survived this year's reaping unscathed, wind away hours with Cara, and then enjoyed the feast under a sky speckled with stars.

The universe, apparently, had other plans.

Archer was shaken awake early in the morning from the sound of thunder directly overhead. Peering out the window, his mood plunged as he saw rain slamming against the pane. He knew sleep was useless now. He dragged himself out of bed and ruffled his short brown hair, but it still looked unkempt. He slid on the shirt hanging off his bed post over his tall frame, then slipped downstairs.

The Barkley household was the same as most in the forests of District 7. It was a cottage, small but not uncomfortable, with intricate woodwork covering almost every surface. The people of District 7 knew wood better than any other, considering they produced the lumber and paper for the whole of Panem. They were not the most sociable people, so they set their houses apart from each other, burying themselves amidst the trees.

Archer sat down to the family table across from his mother, Grace. She had already set out his breakfast, and watched him with sad eyes while he ate until he took notice.

"Mom, you can stop looking at me like that," Archer mumbled through his oatmeal. "I'm not getting reaped today. My name's only in there once, remember?"

"Of course you're not getting reaped," Grace replied, her eyes hardening. "Now hurry and eat. Your father will be back in an hour, and we're all walking to the ceremony together." She stood, rinsed her bowl in the basin, and strode out of the room. But Archer caught her lingering stare right before she left.

The source of the stare found its roots six years before. Archer's brother, Carson, had been reaped in the 15th Hunger Games. It had been a harder time, and Carson had to put his name in several times in order to receive tesserae and support the Barkleys. When his name was drawn, Carson Barkley walked proudly up to the stage and faced his fate. But in Victor's Village, there is a house that still stands empty.

Carson hadn't been unprepared. He could handle a bow as well as anyone, and was smarter than most. But he had put his trust in someone he shouldn't have, and had been stabbed in the back, quite literally. Archer and his parents had watched in horror as their oldest son became another victim of the Games. And now, six years later, Grace Barkley was facing the possibility of losing her only living son, and it was weighing on her.

An hour later, Archer was fed, washed, and standing handsomely clothed in front of his house. The rain had died, and he was kicking a wet stone back and forth when his father, Dawson, appeared on the path that led between the trees. He tossed Archer a quick hello, then entered the house. He reappeared a few minutes later with Grace on his arm, and together they walked towards the plaza.

Carson's death had affected Dawson in a completely different way. Where Grace became more protective of Archer, Dawson became closed off. He had always favored his first born, and no longer wanted anything to do with his second. Archer was well aware of it, and his resentment had bubbled inside for years.

They arrived at the plaza, a huge open area with an ancient tree growing in the center. On the far side, the Justice Building rose behind a flat, wooden stage. On the stage sat two bowls, each filled with the names of boys and girls from District 7. Archer trotted away from his parents and found the group of sixteens standing near the edge of the stage. He silently slipped his fingers between Cara's, and she smiled at him.

Cara Justine, the only thing that had lit the darkness since Carson's death.

Archer and Cara had met years before, when they first began school together. Cara understood Archer; she had lost her sister to the law-enforcing Peacekeepers years ago, and she had been the only one who could comfort him when Carson died. Soon, their friendship had developed into something more, and now she meant the world to Archer. He clasped her hand tighter, as if to protect her from the reaping.

Soon, the mayor gave his speech, a boring ramble everyone in the district had heard for years. Then, it was over, and tension settled on the crowd. A young woman in a smart suit walked out on stage. She was from the Capitol, the elite city of Panem. Her hair fell in perfect blonde waves as she reached into one of the bowls.

"We'll begin with girls. Ladies first, right?" the woman chuckled, and unfurled a slip of paper from the bowl. "Oh, this is just so exciting!" Her enthusiasm made Archer want to vomit. She reeked of the Capitol, considering the Hunger Games exactly that, simply a game. But to the starving people of the districts, it was a punishment, a death trap. And it was about to claim its next victim.

"The District Seven female tribute is… Channing Clover!"

There was an audible sob as a small, fourteen-year-old girl wrenched free of her mother and strode up on stage. She had short, brown hair, and although she was visibly shaking, her expression was stubborn. Archer released his grip on Cara, knowing she was safe for another year.

The blonde Capitol woman smiled at Channing, then crossed to the other bowl. After fishing around for a moment, supposedly building suspense, she drew a name.

"And our District Seven male tribute is…" The woman paused, smirking at the crowd. Archer remembered the pause. The host had done the same thing, right before announcing his brother's name. He remembered every syllable her mouth had made, especially pursing her lips on the "b" in Barkley. The memory was so vivid that he almost pictured the blonde woman up on stage pronouncing the same thing, then and there.

Wait a minute.

**Penny Watt, District 3**

Penny hated her house. She hated how large it was, how it was secluded from all the others in District 3. She hated the perfectly groomed rosebushes out front, she hated the constantly polished floors, and she hated the pictures that covered every wall. All of her. But what she hated the most about the house were the people in it.

The Watts were one of the wealthiest families in District 3. Tallon Watt, her father, led a research company and owned many of the research facilities in the area, pumping out tons of electronics to the Capitol. Panem relied heavily on the Watts, and in return, they received special privileges. For example, no one in the family had ever had to put their name in the reaping.

It was on the day of the 21st reaping ceremony that Penny Watt's hatred hit a boiling point.

She glided into large dining room, her brown hair in curls, and took her seat at the middle of the table. Neither her mother, Sarah, nor her father said a word as she entered, and Penny picked at her scrambled eggs and bacon in silence. Her blue eyes focused on her plate, and her cherry lips were pursed in annoyance. Finally, her mother spoke.

"Penny," she said slowly, staring Penny down with her ice blue eyes. "We have something to tell you. It's about Vince."

Penny's nostrils flared. Vince was fifteen, the same age as her, and came from a family of equal wealth. He was insufferable, flaunting his money and wooing girls with a flash of his smile. He and Penny had been forced together since they were children, and Penny couldn't stand the boy.

"You are to marry him."

Penny's fork clattered to the floor, and she stared in disbelief at her mother. Her mother stared back, unblinking. She looked to her father, who was invested in the Capitol newspaper. "You cannot be serious."

"We are, indeed. The date is set a month from today," Tallon said flatly, never taking his eyes away from the article he was reading. Penny wanted to rip it out of his hands and force him to look at her.

"What possible reason would I have for marrying that brat?" Penny asked, her eyes as wide as the dinner plate she was eating off of.

"His father, as you know, owns multiple manufacturing plants across the district, and we need his assistance for a new project, but don't have the funds. So this was the alternative." Tallon spoke to Penny as if she were a toddler that needed every detail explained. But Penny understood perfectly.

"I'm a business deal." Her anger was brewing up inside her, and she gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white.

Sarah spoke next. "Hardly, darling. It works for everyone. Vince is a fine boy, and it saves you the trouble of finding a husband on your own." She smiled, and her face resembled a snake's.

"Vince is unbearable!" Penny exclaimed, her voice approaching a dangerous volume. "He treats girls like toys, and doesn't care about anything but money, and thinks he's a god, and…"

"You _will _marry him, Penny," Tallon said, his voice tensing.

"And if I refuse?" Penny said, standing.

Tallon finally flung down his newspaper. "Then you will lose your inheritance and face the world alone. Understand this, Penny. You are nothing without this family's bank account." He stared her back into her seat, and back into silence.

The Watts finished breakfast, freshened themselves, and piled in the family car. The sleek, black vehicle exited their huge estate, and arrived at the District plaza ten minutes later. The whole ride, Penny fumed. How could they do this to her? How could they force her to marry that boy! All her life, Penny had done what was expected of her. But this was just too far. Then again, what could she do? She was powerless, a slave to her family's wealth and reputation.

District Three's plaza was unlike the others. Instead of raucous fans or downtrodden townspeople, it was filled with polite nobles and well-behaved workers. Everyone knew their place in District Three. And that included Penny.

The Watts took their seats very near the stage. They had priority seating, of course. Penny glanced around as they sat, and spotted Vince a few rows over. He winked at her and pointed to his ring finger. Penny wanted to tell him where he could stick his ring finger, but collected herself and faced the stage.

The mayor gave his speech quickly, knowing no one was listening anyway. Then a tall man in a crimson suit arrived on stage and began to select the tributes. Penny tried to pay attention, but it was useless. Her mind was drifting forward a month, when she would wed. She caught the girl's name, Rachel something-or-other, but missed the boy's completely. She was too busy envying the girl. It had struck Penny that this small girl was getting out, escaping this district. She had the chance to make her own fortune, or die trying. Either way, she never had to return. Her future was entirely up to the decisions she made in the arena. She could decide.

It was then that Penny quietly slid her heels off silently beneath her chair.

The man in the crimson suit turned to the crowd once more. "Will there be any volunteers to take these tributes' places?" He had expected silence, since in District Three it was simply a formality. Three didn't contain many Careers, those who trained for the Games. He had expected to exit the stage, and go back to his cushy room in the Justice Building. What he didn't expect was for a thin girl with curly brown hair and porcelain skin to come charging up on stage without shoes on.

Penny hugged the girl named Rachel, and sent her down the stairs, off the stage, completely dumbfounded. There was total silence from the entire plaza. This never happened in District Three. Ever. "Um, what's your, uh…" the man in the crimson suit said, struggling for words. Penny snatched the microphone from him, and turned on the crowd. She stared at Sarah and Tallon, with panic etched on their faces, and Vince, who looked as shocked as the rest.

"My name is Penny. Penny Watt. And I will be the tribute from District Three."

**Autumn Sinclair, District 11**

The sun baked down on Autumn, whose tan skin and golden hair were already drenched in sweat. But she certainly wasn't the only one. In District Eleven, the agriculture district, the reaping made everyone sweat. Here, there were no volunteers, no Careers to take your place. If your name was drawn from the little silver bowl, you were entering the Games.

Autumn felt bad for those around her, who were panicking at the thought of getting reaped. She wanted to tell them that it was okay, that none of them were going in. There wasn't even a chance of their names being called. Autumn knew this because in a minute, when they decided tributes, her name was coming out of the bowl.

Her mind flashed back to two days before, when she had been summoned to the Justice Building for the first time in her life.

Autumn approached the building nervously. She had never set foot inside it before. When the note beckoning her was delivered to her small home on the edge of the corn fields, she couldn't imagine what it was for. But you don't turn down a summons from the Justice Building, especially in the strict District Three. So here she was, standing in front of the large, wooden doors, right on time.

She raised the old iron knocker and slammed it down three times. It wasn't long before she was let in by an assistant and led deep into the building. It was old, built hundreds of years ago, and the paint on the walls was peeling. They passed portraits of famous men she didn't recognize and very expensive looking furniture. They finally arrived at a set of doors that led into an office. The Mayor's.

Mayor Hastings was a stern man, who rarely socialized with the people of District Three. Autumn had never seen him crack a smile, and he was always perfectly composed. Today was no different. As Autumn entered the bright office, Hastings turned and nodded to her. The assistant shut the door behind them.

"Have a seat, Autumn." She did as she was told, sitting in one of the plush chairs in front of a large desk. Hastings sat across from her and crossed his fingers. "It appears we have a problem."

Fantastic. Another she could add to her long list. But she was silent and let him continue. "Your brother, Zander, has found himself in a bit of a predicament. He was caught stealing from the fields yesterday. Upon investigation, it was found that this has been a reoccurring event."

Autumn tried to act surprised, but this wasn't news to her. It began months ago, when young twins were born into the already struggling Sinclair family. The food began to run scarce, and Zander took it upon himself to solve the situation. Autumn had attempted to convince him otherwise, but Zander was too stubborn. "I had nothing to do with it, if that's what you're implying." She added "sir" as an afterthought. Best not to annoy the man who holds the power.

"Of course not," Hastings said, irritably. "But it falls on your shoulders to remedy it."

"What do you mean?" Autumn replied.

"Zander Sinclair now owes a debt to the District that neither he, nor your family, can repay. Doing so would require us to deplete your family's food supply for months. You would never survive." Autumn listened carefully, her heart sinking slowly. "As you know, the reaping is in a few days, which will send to children from Three to the Hunger Games. The victor of the Games wins a lifetime supply of food. That's where you come in."

"Sir, I already have to put my name into the reaping," Autumn said, confused.

"Yes, but if you take my offer, it doesn't matter who is chosen. You would be our tribute." Hastings stared directly into Autumn's hazel eyes as the gravity of the deal dawned on her.

"You're asking me to volunteer," said Autumn, slowly. "What would we receive in return?"

"Your family would be safe and well fed until you won, or were killed, and you would spare every other girl in the District." Autumn realized this was hardly about her family. This was about Clara Hastings, the Mayor's daughter. She would be twelve this year and put in the reaping for the first time. This was the Hastings' way to protect her without drawing too much attention from the Capitol. If it was discovered that the reaping was rigged, he could face serious consequences. So instead he was making sure she couldn't be sent in.

"Should you chose to not volunteer, your family will be stripped of food, your brother executed, and the Sinclairs will be left to starve." Hastings showed no remorse, no anger. His face was expressionless. "Do we have an agreement?"

Autumn hated the Games, hated everything they stood for. She hated watching tributes murder each other, hated the sick obstacles the Capitol put them through. She hated the interviews, the parades, the horrid outfits. But more than all of that, she hated the thought of her family suffering. So she sighed, stared straight back at Mayor Hastings, and replied "Yes, we do."

So, on reaping day, when the Capitol host asked for volunteers, Autumn slowly raised her hand. When all eyes turned to her, she walked slowly up on stage. She nodded at the young girl whose life she had just spared, and turned and faced the crowd. She looked from one Sinclair to another; Zander, a year older than she, stood in the eighteens, sadness stricken across his face. Eliza, her younger sister, was visibly crying with the twelves. And she knew her parents were yelling at the old television as they were taking care of the twins.

She wanted to hate Zander for stealing, but she hated herself more for not stopping him. Therefore, she didn't cry, didn't shake, but stood stock-still, accepting her fate. Because there was nothing she could do know.

She was entering the Hunger Games.

**Finn Hightower, District 4**

Waves lapped at Finn's bare feet as they hung off the dock. Dawn was breaking on the horizon, turning the ocean to gold. The breeze tossed his eye-length blonde hair back and forth. His big green eyes squinted against the sun. It was a perfect sunrise. On a day that was sure to be the opposite.

Reaping day was a little different in the fishing district. Being a Career district, the tributes were selected weeks beforehand from a group of those had been training years for the Games, usually an eighteen. When the day came, no matter whose name was drawn, the two people selected would volunteer and take their places as the tributes. The leaders of District Four had taken notice of Finn's natural ability with a sword, and had selected him to enter the Games. In a few hours, he would volunteer his life to the District.

The men of the Hightower family had trained for the Games since they began, twenty one years ago. Not all had been selected to volunteer, and those that did usually didn't win. But that's not to say the family didn't have any victors. Finn's older brother Percy had won six years ago, and brought tons of attention to the Hightowers. And now it was Finn's turn to follow in his footsteps.

There were footsteps on the dock behind him, and Finn turned around. Striding towards him was a tall man, wearing a clean black suit and was completely bald. Nothing the likes of him was seen in the fishing district. Finn stood to meet the stranger.

"Finn Hightower?" said the man, formally, extending his hand. "Felix McArthur. I'm from the Capitol." They shook hands, Finn sizing the man up. While the District Four and the Capitol were on fairly decent terms, he still didn't like the looks of this man.

"Can I help you with something?" Finn said, as politely as possible.

"I hear you are the designated tribute this year. Congratulations." Finn smirked. Only in the Career districts did those two phrases follow each other. "I have come to you with a proposition."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't make deals with strangers." Finn nodded, and made to sit down again, when Felix grabbed his arm.

"You may want to hear me out." The look in the man's eye made Finn stand once more. "I work for a very important company, run by a man named Tallon Watt. We have significant influence in the Capitol, and would be very interested in extending that influence into the Hunger Games."

"I'm no one's lackey." Finn was starting to get annoyed. The Hunger Games were difficult enough as it is. Finn didn't need to pressure of being a spy for some Capitol company added to that.

"I think you may have misunderstood. Our company has money, and would be willing to sponsor you. In fact, we can almost assure that you would win. All you have to do is make sure certain events happen in certain ways." There was something very convincing about Felix. He didn't look like others from the Capitol. No flashy clothes or painted skin. He was completely real, and almost seemed friendly. He smiled at Finn, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth. "I know you come from a legacy of Careers. Wouldn't it be exhilarating to add another victor to the family tree?"

Felix had found Finn's weakness, his obsession with upholding his family's reputation. "How can you be sure I'd win?" Finn asked, hope peaking through his voice.

"We're very friendly with the Gamemakers. We can keep you safe." Felix gripped Finn's shoulder. "Interested?"

Finn mulled it over for a second. How hard would it be to kill a few tributes in a certain order or keep some alive for awhile? And having a sponsor right out of the gate would be fantastic. Finn grinned and shook Felix's outstretched hand. "Very."

"Great. We'll be in touch with you at the Capitol." With one last smile, Felix turned and strode away. Finn watched him pull out a phone and begin talking into it. It was a rushed speech, and he continuously glanced back at Finn. Finn's confidence began to wane. Felix suddenly appeared a lot more suspicious.

Finn rose and walked back towards Victor's Village, which sat right on the beach. His family had moved into the small collection of houses after Percy's victory, and had lived there ever since. He walked into the largest of the houses and after tossing a quick hello to his father and mother, he ran upstairs to get ready. Two hours later, Finn, his parents, and both of his brothers left for the reaping.

Unlike some of the lower districts, District Four's reaping was almost a happy event. Since there was no question of who the tributes were, there was no tension. Finn joined the rest of the eighteens, nodding at Mayleen Granger, the selected female tribute.

The mayor of District Four, a happy, round man, come out on stage soon after and gave his usual speech. Then the bowls were brought out and a name was drawn from each. A boy and a girl nervously took the stage, waiting for the Capitol host to say the fated question.

"Will there be any volunteers?"

Mayleen nodded at Finn, and together they walked up on stage. The two other kids smiled anxiously and hurried off. Mayleen and Finn announced their names to the crowd, and there was a cheer. As Finn was enjoying the applause, he caught sight of something and his smile fell. Felix McArthur was standing near the back of the crowd, smirking. When they made eye contact, Felix winked, and Finn's stomach churned. Suddenly, he regretted making the deal.

What exactly had he signed up for?

**There it is! Hope you enjoyed it. The second chapter should be out soon. As you can tell, this story is going to follow Archer, Penny, Autumn, and Finn as they take on the Hunger Games. One of them will win, and I'd love to hear your opinions on who you think should. Conspiracy, love, and revenge are going to be playing big parts in this story also. It's not just a bloodbath.**

**Like I said, I consider your opinions, so please review!**


	2. A Game of Chess

**Hello again, readers! I'm back with chapter two! I hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter Two: A Game of Chess**

**Archer Barkley, District 7**

Reaped. Archer Barkley had been reaped. He had never thought it possible, never thought a family could be unlucky enough to have two sons enter the Hunger Games. But here he was, sitting in a waiting room in the lobby of the Justice Building, about to board a train. The same train Carson Barkley had taken six years before. The train that would take Archer to the same fate.

A small girl sat in the arm chair across the room; Channing Clover, the other tribute from Seven. Her brown hair was short, and flipped out at the ends. She had a round face, and was very thin. Most people were in District Seven. She was curled up, and visibly shaking, but had yet to shed a tear.

Archer wanted to say something to her, to tell her it would be alright. But Archer didn't believe it himself. Realistically, this small girl didn't stand much of a chance in the Games. She didn't have the killing instinct. When facing one of the Careers, this girl would surely fall. So Archer stayed silent, confined to his own thoughts.

There was a knock at the door, and several people entered the small waiting room. The first was a small boy that went sprinting up to Channing and clung to her. Several more people, all resembling Channing, followed. Then Dawson Barkley entered, and closed the door behind him.

"Hello, son," Dawson said, uncomfortably. He took a seat in the armchair next to Archer. There was an awkward pause, and then Dawson asked "How are you feeling?"

Archer almost laughed out loud. How was he feeling? Terrified at the thought of entering the Games. Miserable to be leaving Cara behind. Sickened at the possibility of having to take a life. But Archer knew Dawson didn't care about any of that, so he smirked and said "Fine. Where's Mom?"

"She, uh, couldn't handle the reaping. She fainted, and is recovering at home." Dawson spoke about his wife as if she were a distant relative, or a neighbor. "She sends her love."

Archer snorted. "Right." Suddenly, the door opened again, and a thin girl burst into the room. Cara Justine flew at Archer and wrapped her arms around his neck, sobbing. Dawson saw this happen, and rose silently.

"I'll leave you two to it, then." And with that, Dawson nodded and turned to leave. He paused just before the door, and, over his shoulder, whispered "I love you, son. Come home." But Dawson's words were lost beneath the sound of Cara's sobs, so he opened the door and left.

Cara finally detached herself from Archer, and sat rubbing her eyes. "Archer, you have to come back."

Archer smiled slightly. "I will. I promise," he lied, his heart sinking into his shoes. He saw her eyes lighten and she perked up slightly. If he could raise her hopes, then maybe she could be happy a little while longer. Until she saw her boyfriend's massacre broadcasted across a nation.

"I believe in you." Cara said, and removed a pin from her hair. Archer had given it to her as a gift the day they started dating, and she had wore it ever since. It was small and in the shape of an acorn. It wasn't very expensive, or very intricate, but Cara cherished it deeply. But now, her shaky hands fumbled with the clasp as she pinned it to the front of Archer's shirt. "Something to remember me by," she whispered, and winked. "Don't go running off with Capitol girls. Remember, I'll be watching!"

Archer laughed and held Cara close until a woman in a suit ordered everyone except the tributes out of the room. Cara said a last goodbye, then left with the Clover family. Now it was just Archer and Channing again. They were told the train would arrive in a few moments, and that they should ready themselves, but neither moved an inch.

"She's pretty." Archer looked up, and Channing was looking at him with a blank expression.

"Yeah, she is," Archer replied, wondering what sparked her to speak.

"It'll be awful to see such a pretty girl so sad when you're killed," Channing said, her face still blank.

Archer was taken aback. "Who says I plan on getting killed?" he said, resentfully. He hadn't spoken four words to this girl and she was already sure he was doomed.

"You do," Channing stated bluntly. Apparently, this girl had no qualms about telling the truth. "You told her you would come back, but you don't believe you will. I can tell when people are lying."

Archer wanted to defend himself, but what was that point? Channing had read him like a book. She was very perceptive. "Well, do you believe you'll be coming home?"

"No, I don't." Silence followed this statement, until the woman returned and led them out the back of the building and on to the train platform. Standing before them was sleek locomotive that looked like a bullet ready to shoot from a gun. Its doors were open and the blonde host of the reaping was standing inside, waiting for them. But Archer and Channing stopped a few feet from the train.

"We're never coming back, are we?" Archer asked, turning to face the district. He longed to run, to fly into the branches of the oak tree near his home, to wade in the river near the lumber mill. But he would probably never do any of those things again.

Channing grabbed his arm and turned him to face her. Her deep green eyes locked onto his brown ones, and she replied "Probably not. So there's no point in looking back. We have too much to focus on in the future." Channing was blunt, but Archer suddenly felt more confident. She spoke with determination, with honesty. There were no fronts with this girl. She was entirely real.

"Then what are we waiting for?" They nodded to each other, and boarded the train.

The door slammed shut behind them.

**Penny Watt, District 3**

Penny wondered if someone's head could actually explode. If enough anger could build up to force the skull to crack open. Well, if it was possible, Tallon Watt was coming dangerously close.

Penny had been sitting in the waiting room of the District Three Justice Building, absently looking around her, when the door slammed open. In stormed Tallon, followed closely by Sarah, looking as terse as ever. Tallon strode straight up to Penny, grabbed her by the collar, and pulled her up so their faces were almost touching.

"How. Dare. You!" Tallon spat each word out like its own sentence, laced with venom. There was a deadly look in his eyes, and a vein was pulsing in his forehead. Normally, Penny would have fled to her room if she had seen Tallon like this, but today was different. Today, she had finally taken a stand, and adrenaline was pumping through her. "A Watt? Competing in the Hunger Games? It's absurd!"

"You don't think I can win?" Penny scowled, wrenching herself free from her father.

"Oh, I know you can't!" Tallon hissed, hands clenched at his sides. "Now, I'm going to talk to the Mayor, and then they'll select a new tribute and you will be dragging your pathetic self straight home!"

"No. I'm going to compete," Penny stood firm, facing her father directly. "I know what I signed up for, and honestly, it's better than staying here."

"How could you say that?" Sarah Watt had finely piped up. She took Tallon's place, glaring down at Penny. Penny couldn't decide which she wanted to face, her furious father or her insulted mother. "We love you and care for you, now you want to turn your back on us?"

"Oh, please, mother. You don't love me. I'm just another tool to use to get ahead." Penny was furious. Years of resentment were suddenly bubbling out of her. "If that company had wanted me to be reaped, instead of marry Vince, I would already be here. Well, I'm done. If I die, at least it was my own choice. And if I somehow win, then I will have made my own fortune. Either way, I will never be speaking to either of you again."

Pain erupted in Penny's cheek and she fell back into the armchair. When the spots cleared from her vision, Tallon was lowering his hand. Penny was speechless. He had insulted her, made her feel worthless, and punished her severely. But until that day, Tallon had never physically harmed his daughter.

"You ungrateful brat," Tallon spat. "You want to die? Be my guest." With that, Tallon grabbed Sarah's arm, turned on his heel, and stormed out. Penny was still recovering when the door closed behind them. She heard a snort off to her right, and turned to see a boy year older than she chuckling to himself. He had jet black, spiky hair, and a matching set of eyes. He was thin, but also powerful. He must be the other District Three tribute.

"What is so funny?" Penny asked angrily. The boy stopped laughing, and sat staring at the door, but when he spoke, it was directed at her.

"You actually think you can handle yourself in the arena?" the boy said. "I mean, have you even watched the Games before? You might have to get your dress dirty, princess."

"I can handle myself, thanks." Penny wasn't in the mood to defend herself anymore today. Especially to someone she had never met.

The boy snorted. "You'll be begging your daddy to save you the first day. That is, if you don't get murdered right off the bat."

"Who are you, anyway?" Penny questioned the boy. At this, he turned and faced her, a smirk still plastered to his face.

"Caster Cable," he said, as if Penny should already know the name. She didn't. "And no need to ask who you are. Penny Watt, heir to the Watt fortune. You're royalty."

Penny was very thankful the train that was going to take them to the Capitol had arrived just then, or she surely would've punched Caster. This was not the day to be pushing her buttons. Instead Penny rose, and with a flip of her curly brown hair, strode out of the room. But just before she left, she turned and faced Caster.

"Listen, and listen well, Caster. You and everyone else assume I'm going to give up. Well, I'm not. I'm sticking this out until the very end. And you had better watch your back, because no one calls me princess." Then she left.

Caster chuckled and followed her out of the room, muttering under his breath "Whatever you say, Your Majesty."

**Autumn Sinclair, District 11**

Fields flashed by outside the train window, but Autumn hardly noticed. She was staring at floor, willing the train to take her anywhere but the Capitol. She willed it to turn around, and send her back into the arms of her family. But she couldn't go back; she had a family to provide for.

Her goodbye with her family had been full of tears and sorrow. They couldn't understand why she would volunteer, and Autumn didn't have the heart to tell them. So she hugged each of them and gave them her love, then sent them back to their life in District Eleven. Meanwhile, she boarded the train and headed to her execution.

Suddenly, the compartment door slid open and in walked a human rainbow. Her name was Clarie Fairworth, and she was the escort for District Eleven. Her hair was a deep purple, her eyes were covered in blue makeup, her lips were a bright green, she wore a shining yellow top, tight orange pants, and cherry red shoes. A rainbow, from top to bottom. She strutted in and tapped Autumn on the shoulder.

"Darling, would you please come to the dining car? I think it's time we all got to know each other." Clarie smiled and flashed her blue eyes, and Autumn knew there would be no escaping this lunch. So she nodded, stood, and entered the dining car behind Clarie.

There were already two people seated around the small table. The first was a boy a year younger than she. His name was Bale Chordston, the other tribute from District Eleven. He was a very big guy, and always had a smile on his face. He had short-cropped hair and lots of stubble. He was a year older than Autumn, and her polar opposite.

Seated next to Bale was Jackson Orchard. He was to be their mentor throughout the Games. He had won the twelfth Hunger Games from his brilliant survival skills. Since then, he'd kept to himself, not reveling in the spotlight like some victors did. His curly hair had become long and graying, and his face had sunken in deeply. It appeared the two of them had been sitting in silence, and Bale looked thankfully at Autumn when they walked in.

Autumn sat across from Bale, and Clarie across from Jackson. Immediately, they were served by a silent waiter, and Autumn stared in awe at the food before her. Although they grew food, the people of District Eleven didn't get to enjoy much of it. She immediately dug into the potato soup and vegetables.

"So, Bale, tell us about yourself," Clarie said, bashing her blue eyes at him. She hadn't touched her food. Autumn was considering stealing it when she wasn't looking.

Bale swallowed and looked around awkwardly. "Well, I'm eighteen. I have two brothers. I've worked in the fields since I was fifteen."

Clarie snorted. "Oh, please," she said. "We want to know the real you. Do you think we can get you sponsors telling them about 'the fields'?" Autumn winced. That was a little bit harsh.

Bale glanced across the table at her. "What about Autumn? I bet she's way more interesting than I am," he said, grinning. Autumn returned his grin with a deadly glare. But the ploy worked. Clarie swiveled in her chair to face her.

"You're right!" she said, clapping her hands together. "I've been dying to know. A young girl from District Eleven, with two new siblings and fairly decent marks in school. What could make you volunteer?" Autumn was taken aback by how much Clarie knew about her. Where on earth did she find out about the twins? Or her grades? Is this what it would feel like during the Games, with all of Panem knowing everything about her? Well, she knew one thing. She couldn't reveal the true motive behind her volunteering. So, she forced a small smile.

"I've just always wanted to prove myself in the Games."

Clarie frowned at her, disappointment written across her face. "Uh huh. We'll see if the true story doesn't come out sooner or later." And with that, Clarie rose, her food untouched, and swept out of the dining car. Jackson nodded to them both, and followed Clarie out. Now, it was just Autumn and Bale.

"Listen, sorry about that," Bale said, breaking the silence between them. "I didn't want her to know me that well just yet."

Autumn's eyes narrowed. "And you think I did?"

Bale laughed. "No, but I figured you could handle Clarie better than I good." It was an off-hand compliment, and Autumn's hard composure cracked a little. It was hard to be angry with Bale for very long. "Listen, I know we don't know each other too well, but would you like to team up? It doesn't hurt to have allies from the beginning."

Autumn had planned to go it alone in the Games. If she was by herself, then she didn't have anyone to be responsible for. But there was something in Bale's smile, the twinkle in his brown eyes that made her trust him. So, against her better judgment, she slowly nodded.

"Great!" Bale said. "It's good to know I have someone on my side." Autumn smiled at him. Bale was strong, he was smart, and he seemed very trustworthy. The two of them could hold their own in the Games, even against the Careers.

What could go wrong?

**Finn Hightower, District 4**

This isn't going to be easy, Finn thought. He was sitting on a couch in one of the train cars, staring at television built into the wall. Outside, the world lay in darkness. The sky was illuminated in the distance from a large collection of lights: the Capitol. Mayleen Granger sat next to him, her eyes locked on the screen. They were watching the reapings from all the districts, and no one seemed like they were going down without a fight.

Currently playing was the District Seven reaping. A boy a little younger than Finn was standing nervously on stage next to a solid looking girl. The girl looked like she could be a threat, but the male tribute appeared weak. Yet Finn couldn't take his eyes off the District Seven boy. There was something oddly familiar about him…

"We'll have to watch the girl. She seems tough." Mayleen had dropped comments like that throughout the reapings. She was treating it like a game of chess, choosing which pieces to take out first. Finn was impressed with her collectedness. Although he tried to contain it, anxiety was bubbling up inside Finn.

The next few reapings flew by quickly. None of the tributes from Eight, Nine, and Ten looked especially threatening. But then District Eleven appeared on screen. The Capitol host drew two tributes, the male being bigger and stronger than most Finn had seen. But when the host called for volunteers, a golden-haired girl's hand rose slowly into the air and she strode towards the stage.

Mayleen and Finn were both shocked. The only time there were volunteers from the lower districts was when family members were selected. But when the girl announced her name, Autumn Sinclair, there was no relation to the female tribute. They didn't even seem like friends. What could possess this girl from Eleven to volunteer for her death?

"That's something you don't see every day," Finn said quietly. This girl's decision had shaken him. He couldn't help wondering if he would have done the same, had he been in her position. All his life, he had been destined for the games. But Autumn had made him think, is this what he really wanted? Or was he just doing what he was told?

No. He was a Hightower. He was entering the Games and he was going to carry on his family's reputation. He had to. And that was the end of that.

District Twelve's reaping was hardly interesting after the drama in Eleven. Then the Capitol anthem played and the screen went black. Finn said a quick goodnight to Mayleen, then rose and escaped to his private car farther along the train. But as he slid the door open, he stopped dead.

Lying on his small bed was small silver pin. It was of a "W" with a lightning bolt through the middle. It was enclosed in a circle, and no bigger than his thumbnail. And it was laying on top a small, plain card. Finn picked it up slowly. It read "We greatly encourage you to wear this in the Games," and was signed "Felix M." Finn looked around himself, half expecting Felix to come out from behind the door.

But he was alone to ponder how the pin had arrived on his bed. He set it on the bedside table, and lay staring at it late into the night. He knew he needed sleep, but it wouldn't come. Too many thoughts were chasing each other around his head, but one stood out among the rest.

What else would Felix demand of him?

**Well, there you have it. This chapter was more geared towards getting to know the other tributes from Three, Four, Seven, and Eleven. I want to know what you all thought of them. Who was your favorite? Would you prefer if one of them lost the Games quickly? I also still want to know who of Archer, Penny, Autumn, and Finn you want to win. Please review!**


	3. Fight Face

**Hey, readers! I'm sorry it's taken so long to update. Spring break and such… Anyway, here's chapter three! And I've decided I'm going to periodically stray away from the Archer, Penny, Autumn, Finn pattern. I think it flows better to switch it up a little. Enjoy!**

**Chapter Three: Fight Face**

**Archer Barkley, District 7**

From the moment he set foot off the train, Archer's eyes hadn't stopped moving. There was so much to see in the Capitol; the buildings touching the sky, the screens showing thousands of images, the colorful people walking this way and that. Archer had never left District Seven, so all he saw of Panem was what they showed during the Games. Living in the forest, he was used to feeling small, but he had never imagined how the city would feel. It was a forest that shined.

After spending the night on the train, Channing and Archer were whisked by two men in suits off the train and into a sleek, black car. They drove through the city, Archer glued to the window while Channing sat staring at her hands. The men sat up front, neither saying a word. The car passed huge clothing stores and fancy restaurants with flashy signs. After driving for ten minutes, they finally arrived at a huge building near the center of the Capitol. From the car, they were rushed into the building and inside an elevator.

Archer glanced at the men on either side of Channing and him. Both were built like tanks and stared straight forward, not saying a word. Their escort, Quinn, stood behind them, filing her bright yellow nails, and tossing them occasional disgusted looks. She was not pleased with her tributes this year apparently, and had barely said two words to them so far. Finally, the elevator doors creaked open.

"Whoa." Archer's statement described the situation perfectly. Waiting beyond the elevator was the most luxurious room he had ever seen. The floor, furniture, and walls were a spotless white. Windows covered one side, giving a fantastic view of the city. A huge television took up most of one wall. Neither tribute had ever set foot in a place so fantastic.

"Your rooms are down there," Quinn said, nodding down a hallway. "Go get cleaned up. Your stylists are coming in an hour to prepare you for the Chariot Rides." She, however, strode to a door on their right and wrenched it open, slamming it behind her.

"I don't like her," Channing said, glaring after Quinn. Archer chuckled and followed her down the hallway. There were two identical doors, but instead of names, the little plaques on the doors read "Male Tribute - 7" or "Female Tribute - 7". It made Archer feel even less like a person staying in a bedroom, and more like a tool kept in a closet. "Well, see you down there," Channing said and entered her room. Archer nodded, and followed suit.

The room was large enough, and resembled the living room of the apartment, everything white and sterile. Archer knew he should head to the bathroom and take a shower, he should tidy his knot of hair, and he should brush his slightly crooked teeth. But instead, he sat on the corner of the bed, unclipped Cara's acorn pin from his shirt, and cried.

Throughout his childhood, that he could remember anyway, Archer had only cried twice. It wasn't because he was brave or manly. He just didn't believe it helped mend a bad situation. The first was the day he had fallen out of a tree and broken his arm. The second, was the day Carson's body had arrived on their doorstep in a little wooden box. Even then, he had only cried that night, alone in his bed. But now, tears streamed down his cheeks. He couldn't make them stop. He could handle the Games, the longing to be with Cara, and unfamiliarity of the city around him. But he couldn't handle how close he felt to Carson. His brother had been in this room, laid on this bed. They were sharing the same fate, and Archer couldn't control his emotion. So, he just sat there and sobbed.

His hands soon became wet from wiping his cheeks, and the acorn pin slipped out of them and bounced underneath a nearby dresser. Archer couldn't reach it beneath, so he painstakingly moved the dresser away from the wall. As he bent down to pick up the pin, something on the wall caught his eye, and he squatted to examine it. There, carved into the wall, was a small heart, barely noticeable. And written inside, in a familiar handwriting, were the initials CB. Carson Barkley.

"I had hoped that was still there." Archer spun around, slamming his head into the dresser. Standing a little ways behind him was a young woman, with spiky black hair and a pointed face. She was conservatively dressed, surprisingly, wearing a sweater and black pants. She stood with her arms crossed, staring intensely at Archer. "You look so much like him."

"Like who?" Archer asked, rubbing his head and standing.

The woman dodged the question. She walked into the room and set a large bag on the bed. As she rifled through it, she introduced herself. "My name is Eva Richards. I'm your stylist." She began pulling out combs and brushes. But Archer wasn't paying attention. Something about her name had caught his attention. It was her initials, ER. They were carved below Carson's in the heart.

"You knew my brother."

Eva stopped removing objects from her bed, and looked up at him. "Yes, I did. I was his stylist too. We were very, uh, close."

Archer looked at her skeptically. "Close enough to carve your initials into the wall together?"

Eva smirked. "You could say that." She returned to her equipment, plugging things into walls and removing others from cases. "You're very much like him, you know."

"He probably wasn't crying on his bed for twenty minutes when he got here," Archer said, the wetness on cheeks tingling a little.

"No, but I do have a sweater with tearstains on the shoulder," Eva said sadly. She walked up to him and gripped him by the shoulder. "Archer, you're allowed to be scared. Carson certainly was. But if you let it control you, then you don't stand a chance in these Games. You have to keep a level head. So get your tears out now, and then put your fight face on. Win these Games for Carson." She gave him one last squeeze.

"Now, let's make you shine."

**Penny Watt, District 3**

As much as she was used to it, Penny still hated being dressed up. She felt like an oversized child's doll. And she most certainly looked the part. Penny's already curly hair was coiled even tighter, framing her face. Her very pale skin was now shining like porcelain. She was wearing a sleek golden dress that restricted her movement, and make up had been heavily applied to her face. She half-expected them to install a drawstring in her back, and force her to say "momma!"

"Them" referred to the two Capitol girls and her stylist, who, ever since her arrival, had scrubbed, styled, and painted her into perfection. Well, their opinion of perfection anyway. Penny thought she looked absolutely ridiculous. But she had never been an expert on fashion, so she had kept quiet. She distracted herself with thoughts of what horrible costume Caster had been forced into.

Soon, it was time for the Chariot Rides. The annual journey by chariot around the center of the Capitol began from a garage on the ground floor of their building. Penny was escorted by her stylist, a tall man with purple hair that stuck straight out, into the elevator. Penny didn't say a word the whole trip, visibly boycotting the way she was dressed. What did flashy lights have to do with District Three anyway? They made electronics. Well, I guess it was better than being dressed as a circuit board.

When they arrived at the garage, Penny recoiled. She was met with an explosion of color and sound. She walked further into the garage, passing the tributes from One, both dressed as gladiators. They were the average Career tributes, muscular, handsome, and lethal. The tributes from two looked much the same. She arrived at the holding pen for District Three's chariot.

"You say you don't want me to call you princess, but you give me every reason to." Caster's voice drifted down from atop the chariot. Penny glanced up, and wasn't surprised to see him dressed much the same as her. He was wearing a golden tuxedo that sparkled from head to toe. Even the shoes were inlaid with gold.

"In my opinion, you have no room to talk," Penny said, smirking.

"I never said I wasn't a prince," Caster replied, hopping off the chariot. "Come, Your Highness, we've been encourage to socialize with the Careers." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. Standing there was Copper Leeland, the District Three mentor, leaning up against the side of the pen. Upon glancing over, she shooed them towards the first to chariots. Penny groaned, and followed Caster towards the group of tributes.

The Careers were made up from Districts One, Two, and Four. Occasionally, Three would produce strong tributes, but not as often. The six tributes always found each other before the Chariot Rides and formed an immediate alliance. From there, they would observe the other tributes, judging which ones they wanted to pick off first.

Penny and Caster approached the group near the end of the introductions. The female tribute from One was introducing herself currently. Her white-blonde hair was pulled back, flat against her head. She had a pointed, pale face and eyes as cold as ice. She nodded to the group and said in a voice like a dagger "Hera. And this is Apollo." She directed the last bit towards the boy standing next her, cutting him off. She was about to say more when she caught sight of Penny.

"Well, if it isn't the tributes from Three," she hissed, crossing her arms. "Caster, is it? Which means you must be Lady Watt." Hera stared straight into Penny's eyes, and she had the urge to flee. But Penny held her ground.

"It's Penny."

"Right," Hera snorted. "If you've come looking for an alliance, we really only have room for one more. And it's not going to be someone whose house could host its own Hunger Games inside." She directed her gaze to Caster. "You in?"

Caster glanced at Penny, then looked back at Hera. "Definitely."

Penny felt like she'd been slugged in the gut. She knew Caster wasn't the most honest person, but she had no idea his disloyalty ran so deep. "I guess you can go now," Hera smirked. There were a thousand things Penny wanted to say, but there was no use in making enemies so early. So, with one last deadly glare at Caster, she turned on her heel and left.

Even though she had kept her composure around the Careers, Penny was still furious. The list of people who truly didn't believe in her was climbing, and she was desperate to show them she wasn't weak. But what could she do? It wasn't until she was passing the pen holding District One's chariot that she had an idea.

She glanced around her, then slipped into the pen. The only beings in sight were the two horses that drew the chariot. And they were the key players in her plan. "Horses are animals," she mumbled to herself, "and every animal has to use the restroom sometime." Penny scanned the pen and noticed a shovel leaning up against the side of the pen that was used to remove the horses' waste. She grabbed it, but instead of shoveling the waste out of the pen, she moved around quickly, shoveling it into the chariot. Soon, there was large mess in the bottom of the chariot where the tributes stood, and the combined smell of the refuse was atrocious. When Penny was satisfied with her work, she slipped out of District One pen and into her own.

Later, all the tributes were called to board their chariots. Penny could soon hear a tremendous ruckus nearby and shouts echoed throughout the garage. Many people ran towards the noise, but Penny remained in her chariot, smiling.

The Careers needed to learn not to mess with this princess.

**Finn Hightower, District 4**

Finn hated fish. Yes, it was ironic, being from the fishing district and all, but he couldn't help it. The stench, the feel, the look, he hated it all. So when Finn discovered that the stylists were dressing him and Mayleen up as fish, scales and all, he almost fainted. But he had never been the type to complain. So after three excruciating hours of painting and gluing scales, they stood in the garage with the rest of the Careers, feeling completely idiotic. The other Careers were attempting to be supportive, but it was feeble. After all, the worse the tributes from Four looked, the more sponsors One and Two would get.

The Careers had naturally come together the minute they arrived in the garage. Their alliance was implied from the get-go, as always. The girl from One, Hera, and the boy from Two, Gregor, immediately took the lead. Gregor wasn't incredibly muscular, but he had cold black eyes that demanded respect. The two Careers were leading the introductions when a skinny boy and a curly haired girl walked up. The tributes from Three.

Hera acknowledged the boy, but dismissed the girl. Something about her being too wealthy. Finn wasn't too concerned. She wouldn't survive long with or without their help. Then Hera turned back to the group and began laying out the stipulations of their alliance.

"Alright, we're a team until there's eight left. Then it's all for one and one for all. Unless, by some chance, there's only two of us left. Then we go to the top four," Hera rattled off. It seemed like a rehearsed speech, something drilled into her brain for years. "We split up at training, each tackle new skills. No one speaks to other tributes. Not even a word. Are we in agreement?"

Heads nodded around the group. They knew the rules by heart. Besides, who else would they need to talk to? "Now, is there anyone we should be worried about?" Hera continued. "Or anyone we want to get rid of early? I wouldn't mind knocking off the Watt girl. She would be unbearable for viewers to watch."

Tori, the girl from Two, chimed in. "I didn't like the look of the District Six tributes, Isabelle and Ignatius. They were a little too happy to be reaped. And they looked strong to boot." Gregor nodded his agreement.

Mayleen spoke up next, putting her observations from the train to use. "We also need to watch the boy from Seven, Archer. His brother was in the Games, and he'll be out for blood. Especially from you, Finn." Mayleen's remark brought him back to Earth.

"What? Why would he have it out for me?" Finn asked.

"Remember, six years ago? His brother almost won the Games, but was betrayed at the last second. And your brother, Percy, was the one that did it." Of course. Finn suddenly realized why the boy from District Seven had looked so familiar. He was an exact copy of his brother, and Percy's betrayal of Carson had been a major focal point of that year. In fact, one could argue it was how Percy won the Games. It was dirty move, but in the Hightower family, it was completely acceptable.

"How do you know all this?" Finn asked, skeptically.

"I've been forced to watch every minute of the Games. I remember these things," Mayleen replied. She was giving Finn a hard look, her jaw set, forcing her point upon him. "I don't think he's put two and two together yet. But when he does, he'll be out for revenge. He may not look like it, but he's got a fire in him. I can feel it."

"Then we'll just get rid of him early." Hera had obviously had enough. She didn't like the idea of strong opponents outside of her alliance. Suddenly, her mood changed and she smirked. "In fact, Finn can do the honors, at the Cornucopia. Give the parents a matching pair. A 'boxed' set." Some of the Careers laughed at Hera's joke. But the idea of taking another son away from that family sickened Finn. Yet, how could he win the Games feeling like this? Luckily, the tributes were called to board their chariots then, and Finn immediately left the circle.

As he stood on the wave-themed chariot, Finn was lost in thought. He didn't even notice the commotion three pens down. He was wondering if Percy, his brother, had had any doubts about betraying Carson. Had he ever faltered, or did it just come second nature to him? And if it did, did that mean Finn would have to play the same game to fulfill his family's legacy? He was so uncertain about so many things, yet one thing was clear. Mayleen was absolutely right.

Archer wanted revenge, and when he discovered Finn, he would shoot to kill.

**Autumn Sinclair, District 11**

Autumn was not self-conscious. She just preferred not to be in front of large group of people all staring at her. It just wasn't her favorite situation. But she was not self-conscious. Well, not totally…

She stood on the back of her chariot, trembling slightly. They had lined all the chariots up in order, waiting to send them into the stadium filled to the brim with people. Autumn could picture now the thousands of eyes all trained on her pumpkin-shaped chariot, scrutinizing their green costumes covered in vines. Just the thought made her tremble harder.

"Are you okay?" Bale, standing beside her, had obviously taken notice of her anxiety. Autumn didn't reply. She just stood facing forward, and nodded slightly. She was too focused on the fact that the doors had opened and District One's chariot was rolling forward.

When she had volunteered for the games, Autumn had pictured herself in the arena, surviving in the wild and taking lives when needed. What she hadn't expected was being paraded in front of the whole nation, in a ridiculous costume. If she had thought of this, she might not have volunteered so quickly.

Autumn glanced up at the television screen that showed the tributes in the stadium, and was distracted for a minute. Usually when District One's chariot entered, the crowd would go wild, throwing flowers and screaming their names. But this year, the reaction was different. People seemed to be recoiling from the chariot. Some people went as far as to wave their hands in front of their noses like they smelled. Maybe they did. Autumn had heard the commotion that had taken place at the other end of the garage, but had no idea what it was about. Whatever it was, it had ruined these tributes first impression.

Two and Three went next, and the row of chariots rolled forward. Autumn was brought back down to Earth. The pumpkin chariot was getting closer and closer to the front of the line. Her trembling came back with vengeance. At this rate, she wouldn't get a single sponsor.

Four entered, and the crowd was in uproar. Not only did both tributes look magnificent dressed up in scales and painted sea green, but Panem had obviously noticed the boy, Finn, from the reapings. He was very good-looking, and the Capitol ate him up. Autumn wondered how District One felt, knowing District Four had stolen the reaction the first tributes were supposed to get.

Five and Six rolled into the stadium, both receiving average reactions. Autumn's trembling had reached a peak. She was now visibly shaking, and the Capitol would surely notice. No one so far was shaking like she, and the Capitol would assume she was weak. She would be the mockery of the Games before they even got started.

The next chariot to enter was Seven, and the crowd suddenly changed. There were no cheers, no screams, nothing. You could hear a pin drop in this stadium full of thousands of people. The faces weren't angry, they weren't laughing, they were just sad, though Autumn had no idea why. Then the strangest thing happened. Every hand in the stadium rose in the air, and instead of applauding, formed a thumbs-up. Upon seeing this, tears began to stream down the male tribute's face.

Autumn leaned over to Bale. "What's going on?"

Bale smiled slightly. "The boy's name is Archer. His brother was in the Games, and was betrayed and killed. He was a Capitol favorite, and that was the sign he gave everyone." Sadness settled in Autumn's stomach. Even though she had siblings, she still couldn't imagine what Archer must be going through. She watched as Archer extended a thumbs-up into the air as their chariot left the stadium.

Two more chariots entered the stadium and the mood in Capitol returned to normal. One more chariot, and then Eleven would enter. Her nerves bubbled up again. It was too soon…

Autumn felt an arm wrap around her shoulders, and she looked over at Bale. "You're going to be fine, Autumn," he said, grinning. "You look amazing, and you have me here to make you look even better." And just like that, her nerves vanished. She laughed. Bale was right. They were a team, and they would succeed, or fail, together. Ten entered the stadium, and for once Autumn didn't tremble as they rolled forward.

"And besides," Bale continued, "we're riding a giant pumpkin. What possibly could the Capitol not like about that?" They both laughed again, and a smile she thought she'd never see spread across Autumn's face. Who cares what the Capitol thought? She would prove herself in the Games, and then they'd see how strong she really was.

District Eleven's chariot rolled into the stadium.

**There you have it! This chapter was a lot harder to write, but I like the way it turned out. And I hope you did too! Next chapter our tributes will begin their training, and the drama will begin! **

**I still would like to know who your favorite tributes are, so I can decide who will survive longest. Give me your opinions, and hold tight for chapter four! **


	4. Making Friends

**Hell, again! Sorry it took so long to update. I hit some major writer's block, but I powered through, and I have some new plot twists for you! Enjoy chapter four!**

**Chapter Four: Making Friends**

**Finn Hightower, District 4**

For the first time in days, Finn was happy. He wasn't worrying about the Games or the Careers or his family. He stood, beaming, atop the chariot as Capitol personnel directed it back into the third holding pen. They had just finished their journey around the stadium, and the response had been tremendous, better than they could have imagined. Even Mayleen had cracked a smile during the ride. But Finn was ecstatic, and he couldn't stop grinning.

That is, until he saw the one person who could bring him crashing back to reality.

Felix McArthur was leaning up against the edge of the pen, looking at Finn over his sunglasses. He was wearing a straight black suit, as always, and his bald head gleamed under the fluorescent lights. When they made eye contact, Felix stood up straight and nodded at Finn. Finn didn't need any other explanation than that. The time had come for Finn to follow up on his end of the bargain.

When the chariot stopped, Finn hopped off, and without anyone seeing, slipped out of the pen. Together, he and Felix walked to a far corner of the garage, out of sight. All the while, Finn refused to look at Felix.

"Ah, Finn, it's nice to see you again," Felix said cheerfully, extending his hand. Finn nodded and shook it, without saying a word. "That was quite an impressive performance, I must say. You two looked fantastic."

"Thanks," Finn mumbled, looking out towards the other tributes.

Felix slipped off his sun glasses and placed them inside his suit. Free of them, Finn noticed that Felix had two different colored eyes. One was a bright green, the other a darker brown. Finn had seen dogs with this trait, but never a human being. It made Felix seem almost feral. Finn squirmed under his animalistic gaze.

"As to why I'm here, it pertains to the pact we made a few days ago in District Four. You remember?" Felix asked, and Finn nodded. The question should have been how could he forget? "Well, I have your first task."

Finn swallowed hard. He had no idea what this company was going to make him do. But he figured it wasn't going to involve making friends.

"The problem is you both looked fantastic. You both stood out, and Mayleen just became your very real competition. And we can't have that, can we?" Felix said, smirking. Finn's blood ran cold as he began to figure where this conversation was going. "So, how do we solve this problem? It's up to you to make yourself stand out, but we can do is affect her performance." With this statement, Felix reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a small vial. Inside, a clear liquid sloshed around.

Finn stared incredulously at the vial. "What do you mean, 'affect her performance'?" Finn asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

"If she succeeds in training, she'll be showered with sponsors, and I can guarantee you she'll go far in the Games. But if she fails, you'll be leading the pack for sure. All you have to do is slip this into her drink at lunch." Felix's multicolored eyes sparkled at this thought. But at Finn's disgusted look, he added "Don't worry, it won't kill her. It'll only knock her out of training for a few days."

Finn didn't care what affect it had on Mayleen. She was his district partner. "I am not going to poison another tribute." And with that, Finn turned to leave. But Felix grabbed his arm, and whipped Finn around to face him again. Felix's cheery demeanor was gone, out like a light bulb. It was replaced by a cruel stare that rooted Finn to the spot.

"Let's get one thing straight," he hissed in a low voice. "As easy as it will be to help you win, it will be just as easy to get you killed right out of the gate. We control you, Finn, and you are entirely dispensable. Understood?" Finn nodded slowly, and Felix released his grip on the boy. He replaced the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, and smiled slightly. "Good, now take the vial and do as you're told." He didn't wait for response, but shoved it into Finn's hands and walked away.

Finn just stood there, holding the vial, dumbfounded.

Dispensable. He was dispensable. He could be tossed away at a moment's notice. More than that, he had been threatened. He had pushed Felix's buttons, and was now perched precariously on the edge. And the only way to Finn could save himself was to sabotage the one person who had been slightly kind to him since this whole thing began. He could never do it.

To make matters worse, Mayleen came marching up to him. Finn quickly shoved the vial into the waistband of his skin tight pants, and turned to meet her. "Where on earth have you been?" she inquired.

"I was, uh…" Finn stammered, having trouble finding a convincing lie. Luckily, Mayleen wasn't interested.

"Doesn't matter," she said, cutting him off. "You've been acting weird ever since we got here. You're distracted, and vacant, and I can't have you representing our district like that in training." Mayleen grabbed his wrist and began dragging him through the garage. They eventually wound up at the huge doors leading into the stadium. They were still open from the chariot rides, but the stadium had emptied out. When she was sure no one was looking, Mayleen pushed Finn out into the stadium again.

"You need to be focused. You can't be thinking about trivial things right now," she stated, folding her arms. "When the lion's baring its teeth, you can't be focused on its mane. So get your emotions out now."

Finn stared at her, quizzically. Mayleen huffed, and strode out into the middle of the stadium. She dropped her head and closed her eyes. Then suddenly, she whipped her head back and let out the most ferocious scream Finn had ever heard.

He was so surprised, he stumbled backwards onto his butt.

Mayleen looked over and smirked. "Get up and do the same thing. Bring everything that's bothering you to the forefront of your mind, and then let it go." She stared at him until Finn stood. A little self-conscious, Finn walked up next to Mayleen, and bowed his head the way she did.

He thought of the Watt company, playing him like a puppet. He thought of Archer, a ticking time bomb. He thought of his brother, a merciless competitor. And he thought of the Games, a sick experiment that turned people into monsters. He hated the Capitol, he hated Felix, and more than anything, he hated himself.

And just then, an ear-splitting scream split the silence.

Mayleen just nodded. "Good, now let's get to work. One of us has the Hunger Games to win."

**Penny Watt, District 3**

Training Day. It was the day Penny had been dreading since she first set foot on the train. She loved the crowds, she could tackle the interviews, and she might even hold her own in the arena. But having everyone watch as she made a complete fool of herself doing something physical? Well, that she could do without.

All of this flashed through her head over and over again as the elevator descended through the giant Tribute Building. The training center was held on the bottom floor. It was a massive gymnasium, filled with a multitude of different stations. Each station specialized in something different, like swordplay or camouflage, and had an expert waiting to teach. In theory, it gave everyone an equal opportunity to learn something new. But almost every other tribute went in with some skill or another. But not Penny. She had a lot of learning to do.

The doors to the elevator opened and revealed the gymnasium. Near the center, a group of tributes had already gathered. Most of them were Careers. Penny scowled when she saw Caster among them, keeping silent and nodding a lot. He had left early to meet them no doubt. Also there were the tributes from Six, Eight, and Eleven. They kept to themselves, eyeing the Careers with distaste.

Penny knew the Careers were out of the question, so she began walking towards the two from Six. But she never made it. Hera, long blonde hair pulled back as usual, had spotted her, and marched straight in her direction. Without hesitation, Hera reached up, grabbed a fistful of Penny's brown curls, and yanked backwards. Hard.

Penny stifled a scream. She reached backward and tried to release Hera's hold on her, but it was useless. Hera had an iron grip. Penny looked helplessly at the Capitol assistant standing nearby, but the man just looked away. Hera then leaned down, and hissed in her ear.

"Listen, you insufferable brat, I know it was you who tampered with our chariot." Penny's heart sank. Hera must've known it was her, but Penny had hoped she wouldn't act on it. It was a very feeble hope. "Well, congratulations. You just made a _very_ dangerous enemy. I would kill you right here and now, but sadly, it's against the rules. But in the Games, I'll have your blood before you can take two steps. So enjoy the next few days. They'll be the last you'll have." And on that, Hera yanked down harder and flung Penny to the floor. And with a flip of her hair, she was gone.

Penny lay on the cold gym floor for who knows how long. The back of her head throbbed painfully, but it was the fear that kept her glued to the ground. Before, Penny just viewed Hera as a bully, someone to antagonize now and then. But suddenly, the Games just became very real, and very deadly. Hera was going to kill her. That, Penny could be sure of. But she certainly wasn't going down without a fight.

"Are you okay?" a voice asked from somewhere above her. Penny glanced to her left, and saw a young girl standing there. She had light brown hair cut into a bob, and a very curious face. Her voice resembled a songbird's, and everything about her seemed small. She was maybe a year younger than Penny, but looked much more. She extended a small hand, and Penny took it.

"I'm fine," Penny mumbled, dusting herself off.

"Don't let her get to you," the girl chirped. "She's all talk. I'm Izzy, by the way. Short for Isabel." She smiled, and then without warning, engulfed Penny in a hug. Penny awkwardly patted her back, wondering what the other tributes thought of this. Finally, Penny edged the girl off of her. Izzy backed away shyly. "Sorry, it just looked like you needed it."

"Izzy, not everyone wants a hug all the time." A second person had joined the group, a small boy. He had longer brown hair that he kept tossing out of his eyes and was just as thin as Izzy. His face was round and plump, like a baby's, and his ears were way too big for his head. "Sorry about her. She gets a little excited." The boy extended a hand, just like the girl. "I'm Iggy, short for Ignatius."

Penny laughed out loud, and shook the boy's hand. "Iggy and Izzy? That's, uh… cute."

Izzy smiled as if she had just received the best compliment ever. "That's what I said!" she squealed, and intertwined her arm in Iggy's, who tried futilely to push her off.

"It is not cute, Izzy! It's annoying." Iggy said through clenched teeth, trying to detach himself. "Now, get off me!" But Izzy just held on tight. Penny couldn't imagine how these two could be so close, especially if they had just met. She snickered silently when she imagined Hera hanging all over her like that.

"Are you related?" Penny asked.

"No, we're just the best of friends," Izzy said. At this, Iggy finally flung Izzy off of him and stood, rubbing his bruised arm. Izzy's voice took on a more serious tone. "I was so relieved when we got reaped together. It meant I didn't have to face this alone." Iggy put his arm around his friend as her eyes began to well up. But just before the dams busted, the Capitol man came out and addressed the group of tributes. He told them about the different stations, and explained that they would have two days to train before going before the Gamemakers, who would judge their talents. Then, he released them to get to work.

Penny became nervous for a moment, having no idea where to go first. Luckily, she didn't have to make that decision. Izzy took her by the hand and dragged her with Iggy over to a station close by. It focused on archery, and Penny had never even picked up a bow before. But apparently, the two tributes from Six had. They began explaining all the different parts of the bow, and demonstrated how to hold it correctly. Surprisingly, Penny caught on quickly.

Then it was time to shoot. Iggy and Izzy took their stances in front of the dummies, which had targets painted on them. After focusing for a moment, both let their arrows fly. They hung in the air for mere seconds, and then embedded themselves deep into the dummies, smack dab in the middle of the bull's eye.

Penny's jaw dropped. "Where did you learn to do that?"

The two shrugged, lowering their weapons. "There's not a whole lot to do in District Six." Izzy said. "So, we decided to teach ourselves to shoot."

Penny smiled. These two could hold their own in the arena. In fact, they could even give Hera a run for her money. And after their confrontation earlier that morning, that was something Penny was desperate to do.

**Archer Barkley, District Seven**

Archer wished for a lot of things. He wished his brother, Carson, were still alive. He wished his parents had paid more attention to him. He wished he hadn't been reaped, hadn't had to leave Cara behind. And he wished he could somehow win the Games and return to District Seven.

But currently, the thing he wanted the most was for this little blonde boy to leave him alone.

It started right after the tributes had been dismissed to go to the stations. Archer hesitated for a moment, waiting to see if what Channing would do. But the small girl was off in a second, heading straight towards the station that dealt with camouflage. Slightly dejected, Archer instead turned to the station he knew best; knives.

When Archer was eight or so, he had been allowed to go with his father to work. Dawson Barkley oversaw a team of men that chopped trees in the initial stages of paper production. Archer had mostly sat and watched as his father directed workers left and right. But when they called lunch, some of the lumberjacks had taken to throwing knives to entertain themselves. Archer's curiosity got the better of him, and he hesitantly watched them from behind a tree. One of the men saw him, dragged him over, and shoved a knife into his hand. They instructed him to throw it at a nearby tree. Archer stared at the knife, suddenly filled with excitement. He took aim, and hurled it straight at the tree.

He missed it by a good ten feet.

But ever since then, Archer had practiced tirelessly with knives. He would steal them from the kitchen when his parents weren't looking, and take them deep into the woods. He even got his brother to help. Soon, he could embed them deep into the bark of a tree. Archer then began drawing targets, working to improve his aim. The intensity of this practicing increased tenfold after Carson was killed. Whether it was for revenge or for practice just in case he got reaped, Archer didn't know. He just knew one day it would be a skill worth having.

And so it was. The Capitol assistant at the knife-throwing station was thoroughly pleased when he hit one target after another. It came as second nature to Archer. All he had to do was stand perfectly straight, crack his knuckles, squint his hazel eyes, and throw the knife. And it would find its mark, every single time.

Archer soon became aware of another presence at the station. He glanced behind him, and saw a small boy, no more than thirteen. He had short, light brown hair, cut straight across his forehead. His blue eyes were as wide as dinner plates as he watched Archer throw the knives. And his stare didn't waver. Archer grew incredibly uncomfortable, so he thanked the assistant, set down the knives, and walked away.

He next went to the physical combat station, something he had no experience with. When he arrived, a few other tributes were there, sparring. Archer just stood back and watched, making mental notes of their movements and stances. He suddenly felt a tingle on the back of his neck, and looked around. And there was the boy, standing a few feet away, staring.

Archer was unnerved. Not only was this boy following him, but wouldn't stop staring. Something needed to be said, but first, Archer had to be sure. So he quickly strode away from the station, to the camouflage station all the way across the gym, where Channing was still training. And sure enough, the little boy trotted after him.

Channing was crouched down, weaving some sort of blanket out of leaves. Archer squatted next to her. "Hello, Archer," she mumbled without looking up.

"You watched all the reapings, right?" he asked, glancing around him. "Who's that boy behind me?"

Channing subtly looked over her shoulder, then went directly back to her work. "His name is Whitt. He's from District Eight. Why do you want to know?"

"I'm pretty sure he's following me, and it's beginning to get on my nerves." Archer stood, and turned on his heel to face the boy. He was getting ready to tell Whitt off when he noticed the boy was nowhere in sight. The spot where he'd been standing not a moment before was now empty. Archer scanned the gym, but couldn't find him anywhere. "He's gone."

"Then he's obviously not following you," Channing stated, bluntly. "You're reading too much into it."

"Yeah, maybe…"

Later, they were dismissed for lunch. Archer sat down at a table with Channing, who was in deep conversation with another boy. Archer didn't even try to join in. He just sat, picking at his food. Suddenly, the hair on his neck prickled. He spun around in his seat, and spotted the problem. Whitt was sitting a few tables over, staring right at Archer. When they made eye contact, Whitt ducked his head. But Archer had had enough. He stood, and marched across the lunchroom, right up to the boy. He gripped Whitt by the shoulder, and turned him to face Archer.

"What's your problem?" Archer demanded. The boy began to tremble, and looked ready to cry.

"I – I don't know w-what you're t-talking about," Whitt stammered, looking everywhere but Archer's face. But Archer held his gaze.

"You've been following me all day, and now you're staring. Tell me what you want, or leave me alone."

Whitt bit his lower lip to keep from crying, and stared at his shoes. "I j-just thought you might w-want to know who I-I am."

Hesitation etched itself on Archer's face. "Why would I want to know that?"

Whitt stopped trembling. He sighed, and then for the first time, looked straight into Archer's eyes. "Because my name is Whitt Everett, and I think I'm your cousin."

**Autumn Sinclair, District 11**

Being sixteen, Autumn didn't have much experience with boys. She'd had a crush or two, but never anything serious. Most boys in District Eleven kept their distance from Autumn. It wasn't her looks, because she was actually quite pretty. It was the fact that her brother, Zander, would the front teeth out of anyone that tried. Autumn didn't mind though. She watched what boys did her female friends, turning them into giggly, blushing piles of jelly. No, Autumn preferred her way of life, male-free.

That is, until she met Bale. He was strong, he was confident, and he could make her laugh, a trick reserved only for her brother. She was really beginning to like her district partner, and the feelings seemed mutual. After the chariot rides, they had sat in Autumn's room and talked through the night. And now they were standing in the gym, on the first day of training, and Bale had his arm around her. Autumn could feel her barrier against the opposite sex slowly disintegrating, but she just might be okay with it.

The capitol assistant dismissed them, and Bale turned to her. "So I think we should split up today. You know, tackle different skills. That way, our alliance is twice as strong."

Autumn smiled. "Sounds good," she said, and Bale gave her shoulder a squeeze, before walking to a nearby station. Autumn looked around the gym, deciding which station she should spend her time at. She finally settled on staffs, to start with something she was already familiar with.

She wasn't the first person there. When she arrived, a tall boy with a bushel of auburn hair was holding one of the poles awkwardly. His slightly freckled face was scrunched up in confusion, studying the staff. He looked to be about Autumn's age, but was taller than her by a few good inches. Autumn vaguely remembered him from the reapings. She was pretty sure he was from District Five, and was none too happy about entering the Games

She turned her attention to the poles, and grabbed one that suited her well. She had learned to fight with a staff during her long hours in the fields. When the Peacekeepers weren't near, she and her friends would take to sparring with what whatever tool they were using that day, and Autumn eventually became quite good. But her stomach twisted when she wondered if she were good enough.

"You're Autumn, right?"

Autumn glanced over at the boy, wondering if it was he that had spoken. "Sorry, that must've sounded weird." It was indeed him. "I just remember you're reaping. You were the girl who volunteered herself."

Annoyance easily untwisted her stomach. This was not something she wanted to discuss with anyone again. "That's me."

The boy smiled awkwardly. "I thought that was really brave. I'm Travis, by the way," he said, sticking out a hand. "Travis O'Leary. I'm from District Five." Autumn shook his hand politely, inwardly congratulating herself on remembering his district. "I was wondering if you knew who to use these?"

She was slightly taken aback. Did she look that comfortable with a staff? "I do, actually, but why don't you ask the mentor to help you?"

Travis laughed out loud. "Does he look like he'd be much help?" he chuckled.

Autumn glanced over, and saw a rather large man nodding off in a chair. Travis was right, he didn't look like he wanted to be disturbed. She stared at him for a minute, calculating her next move. Was it wise to teach a tribute how to use a weapon he could potentially kill her with? Probably not, but then again he wouldn't out match her anytime soon, and it might extend his life in the Games a little. So, Autumn smiled. "Fine, I can teach you a few things."

For the next hour or so, Autumn walked Travis through the basics of wielding a staff. She taught him how to hold it correctly, how to stand, and how to swing it. Next, Autumn taught him how to fight, and they sparred. It was slow at first, seeing as Travis had hardly touched a weapon. But he picked it up quickly, and soon, Autumn began to enjoy herself. Travis may be a tad awkward, but he was funny, and even to another tribute he was incredibly kind. She knew she should probably be visiting other stations, learning new skills, but so much her wanted to stay, to relish in this small moment of pleasure.

But all good things must come to an end.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bale striding up to them. Autumn lowered her staff, and looked apologetically at Travis, who was looking back, confused.

"Oh, please don't stop because of me," Bale said, a slight edge to his voice.

"We were just finishing up, actually," Autumn said, glancing at Travis. Luckily, the boy caught on quickly.

"Autumn was just showing me how much of a threat she was," Travis added. "She really put me in my place."

Bale didn't look fooled. He grabbed the staff out of Autumn's hands and held it in front of him. "Alright, well I'd love to see how much of a threat _you _are," he challenged. Travis lowered his staff.

"Actually, I was going to go check on my district partner…" Travis mumbled. He turned to leave, but Bale stuck the staff out to stop him. Travis turned back, dumbfounded.

"Come on. You can fight a girl, but not me?" Bale said, sarcastically. Travis's eyes narrowed.

"Fine. You want it? Come get it." And with that, it began. Travis flew at Bale, swinging the staff way above his head. Bale deflected the blow easily, and the two entered into an intricate dance. Travis would lunge, and Bale would knock him away. Bale would swing, and Travis would block at the last second. They tumbled around each other, neither gaining much ground. Autumn backed away, worried. If this continued, someone was going to get hurt.

Not a second after the thought crossed her mind when Bale swung particularly hard and whacked Travis in the thigh. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his leg. Bale raised his staff, preparing to deliver the last blow. Before he could, Autumn grabbed the staff, and forced it down.

"Enough. This is stupid," she said, giving Bale a stern look. He glanced at her, and with a sigh, relaxed his grip. Travis stood shakily.

"Thanks for the help, Autumn," Travis muttered.

"You're welcome, Travis," she said, and smiled slightly. Travis nodded, and limped away. She felt bad for the boy. It was her fault he'd been hurt. If she had been expanding her skills, instead of spending so much time at one station, Bale might not have antagonized him. Regardless, Autumn had seen a new side of Bale just now, and it bothered her.

"He's dangerous, Autumn. Stay away from him," he said, grabbing her shoulders and steering her away from the station.

For the rest of the day, they traveled around, learning what they could in an hour or so. Bale never left her side. She didn't mind, though. After a while, Bale returned to his cheerful self. But every time Autumn would look around the gym, she would meet Travis's eyes, and he would smile.

Her whole life she had avoided dating, avoided relationships, and avoided boys. But now, things were changing. Suddenly, they were taking an interest in her, and she was taking an interest back. But she had waited too long to do it, because now she had a problem. The Hunger Games didn't care who was interested in whom. It would take its victims, and it would break hearts.

And Autumn's was on the chopping block.

**That's it chapter four! Chapter five should be out sooner, since I have a lot more to go off now. I have a new question for you all too. Which two tributes would you like to see pitted against each other in a full-on fight? I love your opinions on everything, so please review!**


	5. Beyond the Dark

**Hey, guys! I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to update. I had AP tests, and finals, and tons of stuff in the last month. But I'm back, and better than ever. So enjoy chapter five!**

**Chapter 5: Beyond the Dark**

**Penny Watt, District 3**

Penny had slept with a nightlight since she couldn't remember. It wasn't a childish thing, shaped in a prancing pony or a chugging train. It was just a simple, bright light that cast a dull glow about her room. She wasn't necessarily afraid of the dark. It was the fear of what lay beyond the dark, the threats she couldn't see. So, to solve the problem, she used a night light.

But apparently, the Capitol didn't believe in such things. Penny was being subjected to night after torturous night of sleeping in the pitch black. She had even gone as far as to request a light from their Capitol escort. In return, she had received a sympathetic smile, a blatant "no", and a pat on the head. Dejected, she lay in bed for hours, willing her body to fall asleep.

It was one thing to fall asleep in the shadows, but it was another thing entirely to wake up in them. On the second day of training, Penny's eyes flickered open, but she could have sworn she was still sleeping. She tried to glance at the clock that usually sat on her night stand, but darkness extended in all directions. Trembling slightly, Penny slid out from beneath the covers and edged her way across the room. After running head long into the door, she eased it open and crept into the hall.

The living room of District Three's small apartment was slightly brighter than the bedrooms, thanks to the far wall made completely of glass. Outside, a vicious storm was raging. Rain slammed against the window and lightning flashed repeatedly. Inside, Caster, their mentor Copper, and Eustace, their escort, were deep in conversation.

"How could they cancel training just because there's no power?" Caster whined. He was already showered and dressed. Penny guessed he had awoken early so he could meet Hera for a bit of early morning sucking-up.

Eustace chuckled loudly. His black hair was gelled back meticulously, even the one hair that hung in front of his eyes. He had traded in his crimson suit for a violet one, and was sitting across from Caster, sipping at a glass of champagne. "You want to go train in the dark? Be my guest. Good luck getting down there, though. The elevator doesn't work."

"So the storm knocked out the power?" Penny chimed in. Everyone in the room glanced at her, as if they hadn't known she was there until just then. Caster stood, folded his arms, and scoffed.

"Way to point out the obvious, princess," he jeered, and Eustace fell into another chuckling fit. Eustace found Caster increasingly entertaining, and Caster milked it. Between the two of them, Penny was ready to rip her hair out. "They cancelled training until the power comes back on, which means we get even less time to practice before showing the Gamemakers."

Penny's stomach bottomed out. She had been trying to forget the fact that tomorrow, all of the tributes would have to demonstrate for the Gamemakers their individual talents. They would all then receive a score from 1-12, depending on how well they did. Penny figured her score would be equivalent to her district number…

"Well, if you all excuse me, I'm going to go take a nap. Why waste perfectly good darkness, right?" Eustace said, then stood and strode out of the room. Without a word, Copper followed down the same hallway as Eustace, ducking into her own room. Penny and Caster were left in the main room, alone.

"This is awful. How am I ever going to get a good score without training?" Caster whined, flopping himself down on the couch.

Penny laughed out loud. "How are you ever going to get a good score anyway?"

Caster sent her a deadly glare. "You're one to talk," he sneered, standing to face her. "What are you even going to do for the Gamemakers? Throw your money in the air and dance around in it?"

She opened her mouth to spit out a scathing retort, but nothing came. To be honest, she had absolutely no idea what she was going to do. But Penny had to wipe the smirk off of Caster's face somehow. Then it hit her. The one thing she knew how to do.

"How badly do you want to train today?"

With a whip of her hair, Penny strode into the kitchen and wrenched open a drawer. She removed a small flashlight from it, then headed towards the front door. Beyond it sat an entry hall that lead to the elevator, which connected every floor of the Training Center. Caster watched in confusion as Penny strode out of the apartment. He wanted to let her go, but his curiosity got the better of him, and he followed her out.

In the hall, Penny was holding the flashlight up to a panel that was built into the wall next to the elevator. She had noticed it when they first arrived. She flipped it open, and stared at the multitude of switches inside. Caster watched as she searched through them one by one until she found the switch she wanted, and then flipped it. In the darkness, a light illuminated above the elevator and the doors creaked open. Confident, she stepped inside.

"How did you turn it back on?" Caster asked, dumbfounded.

Penny smiled, reveling in the moment. This was the first time since they arrived that she had felt somewhat competent. "Elevators are built with a back-up power source that can run them to the bottom floor. That way, if there were an emergency, people on the top floor can get out. Now, don't tell me you're afraid?"

Glaring, Caster stepped into the dimly lit elevator with Penny. "I'm not," he mumbled. Penny reached over and pressed the bottom for the training floor. The elevator doors eased closed and it began to sink. "How did you know all that?"

"My dad." Penny said, touching the wall of the elevator. "His company helped build these." Sadness overcame Penny, quickly followed by surprise. She couldn't believe she was actually missing her father! She shook her head, attempting to rid herself of the feeling.

They hadn't been in the elevator for more than a few seconds when screeched to a halt, on the floor below theirs, District Four. Caster braced himself in a corner, looking around wildly. "What's going on? Why are we stopping?"

There was a ding, and the doors creaked open once again. Beyond them, two people stood side by side. It was Mayleen and Finn, the tributes from Four. There was an awkward silence as the two sets of tributes stared at each other. It was broken by Mayleen, who marched onto the elevator with her head held high. Finn followed behind, and the doors closed.

"So," Mayleen said, glancing sideways at Penny and Caster, "how did the elevator start working again?"

"Penny fixed it somehow," Caster said, and Penny's jaw dropped. That was the first time Caster had spoken up for her. Ever.

Mayleen smirked. "I'm impressed," she said, and Penny's pride began to swell like a balloon. "But next time, you might want to get dressed before you leave the house."

Confused, Penny glanced down at herself, and her balloon popped immediately. She was standing there in her pajamas, pink silky things, and she hadn't even noticed.

Would she ever catch a break?

**Finn Hightower, District 4**

Finn could've spent the day sitting on the couch, just watching the rain fall. He did it all the time in District Four. When storms would rage, he would sit next to the window and just watch the sky and the sea. It was incredibly peaceful. But when you have a district partner like Mayleen, nothing was ever peaceful.

The second she found out the power was off, she stormed into Finn's room and shook him awake. She had already improvised a whole day's training, just using the apartment. Together, they did pull-ups from the door frame, crunches dangling from the back of the couch, and one-handed push-ups on the counter. After an hour, Finn was dripping with sweat. He couldn't take a whole day of this.

It was then that they heard a ding in the darkness. Mayleen stopped mid-stretch, and looked up at Finn, confused. Finn shrugged, as oblivious as she was. Both their gazes drifted around the room, searching for the source, until they spotted the door. Leaking under it was the slightest strip of light. Upon opening it, they discovered the little light above the elevator was bright.

"Apparently something in this building still works," Mayleen remarked. Slowly, her signature smirk spread across her face, and she rounded on Finn. "How do you feel about a little unsupervised training?"

Finn didn't get the chance to answer. She grabbed his wrist, dragged him down the hall, and slammed her thumb into the bottom floor button. Beyond the doors, she heard the elevator slow to stop at their level. "Mayleen, I don't know about this…" Finn mumbled, as he watched the doors creak open.

Mayleen snorted. "Fine, stay here then, if you're just going to slow me down."

Standing in the elevator were the tributes from District Three, the greasy haired Caster and the petite Penny, who stood there in frilly pajamas. Mayleen scoffed at them both and stepped into the elevator, then raised an eyebrow at Finn. He stood there, biting his lip for a moment, before saying "Hang on a second," and then sprinting back to his room. He returned soon after, and hopped on the elevator with a smile. "Come on, what are we waiting for?"

The elevator descended again, and they were joined by a few more tributes, some who stayed and some who got off at different floors. It became particularly tense for Finn when Archer stepped on the elevator, still oblivious as to Finn's identity. But luckily, he only joined them for a single floor, then exited again.

It was when the doors closed on District Eleven's floor that the lights in the elevator flickered. It was only for a moment, but it was enough to put its passengers on edge. Mayleen shot a dark look at Penny. "You're sure this thing works right?"

Penny swallowed, looking nervous. "It – it should," she stuttered. But before she could continue, the question was answered for them. The lights in the elevator shut off completely. The sound of its motor died. And every one of the passenger's stomachs flew into their chests.

The elevator was falling. Quickly.

Finn began to feel weightless, and he held on to the nearest hand rail for dear life. The other passengers were doing the same, including one girl who had her arms and legs wrapped completely around it. This same girl was shrieking at the top of her lungs. The only person without something to hold on to was Mayleen, who had been standing in the middle of the room. She grasping at the air, trying not to fall over. Finn grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the railing. Mayleen shot him a thankful glance, and held on tight.

Finn had no idea how long they had been falling. It felt like hours. But he was certain that this trip couldn't last forever. They would eventually come crashing into the ground and explode in a fiery mess.

That didn't sound too appealing.

Just when Finn was certain they were about to hit the basement, the motor started up again. The lights flickered back to life, and the elevator slowed and violently shuddered to a stop. The screen above the door reported that they had arrived on the basement floor. Finn struggled to regain his breath, Mayleen staggered away from the wall, and the screaming girl untangled herself from the railing. The doors opened, and all of the riders quickly stumbled out.

"Well, that was… fun," Finn said, chuckling. Mayleen glared at him, then forged ahead, into the gymnasium.

The room was lit only by emergency lights along the walls, but it was bright enough to see. The stations had already been set up for the day, but they were completely empty. The other tributes dispersed among them. Finn started to follow, but Mayleen stopped him. "Go grab us a couple of water bottles. Trust me, you're going to need it," she said, and then turned and set out for the nearest station. Finn snarled at her back, but did as he was told.

As he was grabbing the water bottles from a nearby table, his leg hit the corner and there was a slight clang. Curious, Finn set the bottles down and reached into his pocket. From it, he withdrew an object that, in all of the commotion, he had completely forgotten about. The reason he had visited his room before getting on the elevator.

A small, clear vial.

He stood there, holding it in his palm. When he had first received it from Felix, he had been dead set against using it. But that was a hundred push-ups, two hundred crunches, and gallons of sweat ago. And there was still more to come. Mayleen was like an ox, if an ox was given super powers and an injection of steroids. Finn hated to admit it, but it was more than he could take. Still, using the poison contained in the vial seemed so extreme. Surely, if he just talked Mayleen into taking a break…

"Finn! What's taking so long?"

Finn winced, and shouted back "Coming!" Without a second thought, he emptied the contents of the vial into one of the bottles, and strode over to Mayleen.

**Autumn Sinclair, District 11**

"Never get stuck between a rock and a hard place!"

Autumn had heard the saying from her mother over and over again as she was growing up, but never quite understood what it meant. What exactly was a hard place? The ground? A wall? And how does one exactly get stuck there? It must be a pretty large rock to trap someone like that. No, the saying didn't make a lick of sense to Autumn. That is, until she was standing in the District Eleven apartment, facing Travis O'Leary, while Bale was in the bathroom.

She had found her rock and hard place.

Bale and Autumn had been sitting in the living room, playing cards by candlelight and watching the storm, when Bale had gotten up to use the restroom. In that same moment, Autumn heard a ding out in the hallway. There was a knock on the door a second later. Confused, she opened the door slowly, to find Travis standing behind it.

"Travis? What are you doing here?"

He blushed, and looked at the floor. "I, uh, wanted to make sure you were okay," he murmured. "Can I, uh, come in?"

Autumn bit her lip and glanced at the closed bathroom door. Bale would not be happy about this. But she couldn't very well leave him in the hallway, so she nodded and opened the door wide. He grinned shyly and entered.

"So how exactly did you get down here?" Autumn asked, closing the door. "The power's off."

"The girl from District Three, Penny, fixed the elevator somehow," Travis explained.

Autumn crossed her arms and studied the awkward boy standing in the middle of the room. "Travis," she said, cocking her head, "why did you really come down here?"

He took a deep breath. "Well, I – " But just then, the bathroom door opened and Bale came striding out. He stopped dead, halfway through drying his hands, when he saw Travis.

"What the hell is he doing here?"

Travis's blush reappeared and he was about to stammer out a response when Autumn cut him off. "Travis wanted to talk to us about joining our alliance." Travis shot her a look, which she returned with a shrug.

"No," Bale said without a moment's hesitation.

"Bale, we haven't even considered it," Autumn said. Her eyes caught sight of their unfinished card game. "Why don't we discuss it over a game of Liar Liar?" Bale glared at Travis, but you could see the gears turning in his head. He finally nodded, and the three of them sat around the small table.

Liar Liar was, in simplest terms, a test of your lying ability. Each player received a portion of the deck. Starting with aces, they went in turns playing the next highest card face down. If you didn't have said card, you had to lie. If you're caught, the whole pile was yours to keep. First player to get rid of their deck wins.

Autumn explained this all to Travis as she shuffled and reshuffled the deck. She then dealt the cards, and they all silently organized their piles. "Travis, why don't you start?" Autumn offered.

He nodded and laid a single card on the table. "One ace," he said, glancing around.

"Liar," Bale spat, flipping over the card. It was a seven. He grinned and shoved the card toward Travis. "Off to rough start, aren't we? Why should we let you in our alliance if you can't even lie properly. Two twos." Bale laid two cards face down on the table.

"It's not his fault he got poor cards," Autumn said. "One three."

Travis glanced at his hand, then glanced at Autumn and Bale again. "One four," he said, placing a card on the table.

"Liar," Bale said, and laughed as the four was revealed to be a two. "See? Every time he lies, he looks at us. I can read him like a book. Three fives."

Autumn just sighed, laid a six on the table, and prayed that Travis wouldn't have to lie again. Luckily, she got her wish. The game continued without anyone having to lie, and the pile on the table grew steadily bigger. Soon, they were back Travis, who had to play kings. Bale smirked, seeing three of the four kings in his own hand.

Travis glanced between them once more, and placed a single card gently on the table. Before he even had let go of it, Bale yelled "Liar! I saw you look at us again. You're pathetic at this game!"

Travis smiled. "Really? Look at the card. " Bale narrowed his eyes, but did as he was told. He flipped out the small card.

It was a king.

Bale looked shocked. "How – how did he - ? I saw…" Bale stammered.

"Did you ever think I might have looked that way on purpose? Now you can take that pile, play your aces, Autumn will play her twos, and I'll play these," Travis said, flipping over his remaining two cards. A pair of threes. "I win."

Bale was furious. "I want a rematch. Now."

Travis shook his head and stood. "No thanks," he said. "Autumn, thanks for the invitation, but I don't think I'm very welcome in this alliance." And with that, he turned on his heel and left the apartment. It wasn't until he reached the elevator that he realized the power still wasn't on, so he slumped against the wall and waited.

Inside, Bale glared at Autumn. "Next time you want to invite someone into our alliance without telling me… Don't." And he too stood and stormed out of the room.

Autumn was left staring at the cards, a mix of emotions brewing inside her. There was anger at Bale, overtaken by affection for Bale, pushed to the side by admiration for Travis, crushed beneath a need to detach herself from both in order to survive the Games.

Autumn would not be playing cards again any time soon.

**Archer Barkley, District 7**

Archer was beginning to wonder how many people in the Barkley family were going to be sent into the Games. First, Carson, who had actually stood a chance of winning. Then Archer, who might survive a few days. Now, poor little Whitt, who surely wouldn't make it past the bloodbath. How could this be fair?

Then again, did Archer really believe Whitt was his cousin? All the proof he had was the word of a twelve-year-old boy. It seemed highly unlikely that they could have lived for so many years without knowing about each other, especially in different Districts. No, Archer was going to need a little more convincing.

He thought about all of this as he stood outside the door to District Eight's apartment. He had been standing there for what felt like an hour, deciding whether to knock or not. Earlier that day, when the elevator had miraculously turned on, Archer had thrown a quick goodbye at Channing and hopped on the elevator without hesitation. He jumped off at the Eight's floor and marched straight up to the door. He had to talk to Whitt. But then he stopped, suddenly afraid of what he might find out. He had enough to deal with in these Games, without a whole new mess of trouble that Whitt might bring. So he stood there, with his fist raised, frozen.

Luckily, the decision wasn't Archer's to make. Not a second later, the door opened on its own accord, and little blonde Whitt walked straight into Archer's stomach. He stumbled backward, surprised. "Ar-archer? What are y-you doing here?" he stuttered.

"I came to talk to you, actually," Archer said. "Can I come in?"

Whitt looked behind him into the apartment, biting his lower lip. "I guess so," he said, and Archer followed him into the room. It was an exact copy of the room right above, white furniture and floor-length windows in all. Whitt took a seat on the couch, next to a girl the same age as Archer. She was the other tribute from Eight, a pudgy girl with a big nose.

"Who's he?" she snorted, looking at Archer with disgust.

"Can we talk in private, Kate?" Ah, that was it. Kate Klosson. Archer remembered the name because the name Kate looked a lot like cake, and that was something Kate seemed awfully fond of. She glared at them each in turn, and seeing neither of them move, rose and tramped to her own room. Archer sat in the armchair across from Whitt, and awkwardly looked at his hands. After a moment, he spoke.

"About what you told me yesterday… I want to know how you know that."

Whitt bit his lip again. "Er, I didn't really until the chariot rides, when they called out the tributes. I recognized your last name, Barkley." Archer looked at Whitt, confused, until he continued. "You see, I've never met my dad. All I know about him is that his last name's Barkley and that he lives in District Seven."

Archer gasped under his breath. There was only one Barkley family in District Seven, and as far as Archer knew, his father was the only living soul who fit that description. The little boy thought they were cousins, but was it possible they were brothers instead? Did Dawson Barkley have a secret he had never told anyone? "Whitt, what was your father's first name?"

Whitt was silent for a moment, thinking. Archer didn't move a muscle in that moment, didn't look anywhere else but Whitt, didn't even breathe. For if Whitt said his father's name was Dawson, if Whitt was Archer's flesh and blood, then the Games were over for him. There was no way Archer could kill his own brother, not when Carson had been so brutally killed by someone he trusted. Archer didn't know what he'd do if the next word out of Whitt's mouth was "Dawson".

"My father's name was, uh…" Whitt said slowly. Then his eyes lit up, like it had just struck him. "Derek. Derek Barkley."

The anticipation bubbling up inside Archer was snuffed out with sadness. The name Whitt gave was not the one Archer had expected, but one related to him none the less. Derek Barkley was Dawson's younger brother. Whitt had been correct. They were cousins. This Barkley, though, only met one of Whitt's requirements.

"Do you know him? Was I right?" Whitt said, anxiously.

Archer nodded. "Yeah, he's my uncle."

Whitt's face contorted into a broad smile. "Really? What's he like? Do I look like him? Was he nice? Did he…" His questions fizzled out as he saw Archer's stricken expression.

"I don't what he was like, Whitt. I never knew him." Archer said, not meeting the electric blue eyes.

"Knew?" Whitt whispered.

"Derek died when I was six," Archer sighed. "He got sick and… I'm so sorry." He added the last part as he saw the tears began to carve paths down Whitt's cheeks. He was staring at the floor, his lower lip quivering. They were quiet for a few minutes, only the choked sobs breaking the silence. Finally, shakily, Whitt spoke.

"My m-mom, Heather, lived in D-district Seven all her life. She met Derek when she was s-seventeen, and fell in love with him quickly. But they made a m-mistake. Me. Mom kept it a secret for as long as she could, but she couldn't hide it forever. She told her family, and they were really mad. They kicked her out of the house. She tried to get Derek to help h-her, but he slammed the door in her face. With nowhere to go, she just ran away from Seven. She hopped on a lumber train, and rode to Eight, where I was born." Whitt looked up at Archer. "I love my mom, and Eight, but I always wanted to meet Derek. Just to see what he was like. N-now, I guess I never will," he finished, and the tears resumed.

Archer sat down on the couch and put his arm around Whitt. The boy turned and sobbed into Archer's shoulder. The river of tears spilled out onto Archer's shirt, but he could care less. Archer felt for his cousin. Six years ago, Archer had been this same crying boy, with nowhere to turn and nothing to do but sob.

"I bet you f-felt like this when your brother died, huh?" Whitt stammered, sitting up and wiping off his cheeks. "It must be weird, being in the same room that Carson was in and having to see Finn Hightower every day."

Confused, Archer turned to Whitt. Something about Carson and Finn being in the same sentence had sparked his memory. "What about Finn?"

"You know, with his brother and all?" It was all coming together. The reason Archer stirred every time he heard Finn's last name. Why he looked so familiar. The holes were filling in quick.

"Who is Finn's brother, Whitt?" The answer was there, dangling in the air between them. Archer knew it, he could feel it closing in. He wanted it to stay back, though, to freeze in Whitt's throat. Archer didn't want to know the truth, because it would change everything. But it was too late. The words were already tumbling over themselves, eager to burst from Whitt and slam into Archer like a ton of bricks. And that's exactly what they did.

"Finn's brother is Percy Hightower, the tribute who killed Carson."

**There it is! I hope you enjoyed it. I have a busy summer ahead, but I really don't think I'll take as long of a break as a I did. Again, I'm sorry about that. But I still hope you review! And tell me which tribute you feel for the most. I really love your opinions. Thanks for reading, and look for chapter six!**


	6. No Looking Back

**Here it is! Chapter Six! I know my updates have been few and far between. I'm super busy, even in the summer! But I hope you're sticking with me, because I have a ton planned for this story. So read on!**

**Chapter Six: No Looking Back**

**Archer Barkley, District 7**

Archer wondered what it would be like to kill someone. He wondered how it would feel to stand over a person and watch the life flee from his or her eyes. He wondered if he would be sad, or relieved, or angry still. He wondered if seeing the lifeless body in front of him would be enough to calm the storm that raged inside him.

But as he sat staring at Finn Hightower, he never once wondered if he could do it.

Whitt's revelation the night before had snapped something inside Archer. Before, Carson's killer had been six years and three districts away. Archer had always toyed with the idea of getting revenge, but it had never seemed like a possibility. Until Whitt told him that Percy Hightower's flesh and blood was in the same room.

The tributes sat in a large room outside of the gymnasium. It was where the tributes had eaten lunch every day during training. Well, the one full day of training they'd had, thanks to the blackout. One by one, the tributes were being called into the gym for their trials. Each tribute had ten minutes to do whatever they could to impress the Gamemakers, those who controlled the Hunger Games. Then they were given a score, twelve being the best, one being the worst. Often, this score determined how many sponsors they got.

Archer wasn't thinking about his trial at all. He should have been, but he just couldn't. His mind had turned into movie projector, replaying over and over again memories from long ago.

The first was the day Carson had died. It was early evening, and Dawson had just arrived home from work. They all sat around the small television, waiting for any sign of Carson. For a few days, there hadn't been any sign of him. He was still alive, that much they knew, because the Capitol showed the victims of each day at the end of the night. But the Barkleys were still desperate to hear how he was doing.

Finally, the screen had switched to a mountainside. That had been the arena that year, Archer recalled, the mountains. Somewhere in the North of Panem, the tributes had stumbled over boulders, hidden in caves, and climbed to the summits. It was treacherous territory, but Carson and Percy had made it work for them.

Carson and Percy, the dynamic duo. Even though Percy had been a Career, he had latched onto Carson early on, and they made a dangerous team. One tribute after another fell to them, but they made sure to never kill in cold blood. That is, until that fateful day on the mountainside.

They were climbing up a steep slope, rocks tumbling all around them. Carson was rambling about the remaining seven tributes, which ones to watch out for and which ones wouldn't survive much longer. Percy wasn't saying much, just climbing silently along behind. Nothing suspicious.

Then Percy stopped. He stood watching Carson, who was struggling over a small ridge. The briefest sadness crossed Percy's face, chased by a rock-solid determination. The Barkleys watched as he reached to his side, unsheathed the knife that hung there, and twirled it in his hands. Then he grasped it firm and wound it back.

Death is a curious thing. You can't feel it coming until it's there, until it's filled up the room and snuffed out the air. Until the light has dimmed and the world has begun playing in slow motion. Until you're noticing the smallest details, like the small scar on Percy's right arm, the glint of the knife in the sunlight, and how one of Carson's shoulders was bigger than the other. Archer noticed all these things and remembered them to this day. But what he remembered most was his mother's ear-splitting, heart-breaking scream.

Archer's mind fast-forwarded to the next week. He was sitting alone in his room, watching the rainfall out his window when a sleek black car pulled up. Two men in suits walked up to their front door, and soon Dawson and Grace had joined them near the car. The men opened the back doors of the car, and struggled to remove a large wooden box. Archer was confused until the box was opened in front of his parents. A pale, unmoving version of Carson lay inside.

Fast-forward again to a month later. The Victory Tour. Each year, after the Games were over, the victor would travel by train through the Districts, stopping at each one to give a speech at the Justice Building. Only in the Career Districts was the victor at all welcome.

Archer had gathered along with everyone else in the center of town. His parents had refused to come, and forbade him to, but Archer just had to see the boy that killed his brother. The crowd was solemn. They had supported Carson as well. He was the first tribute from Seven who had stood a chance of winning in years. But like the trees that filled the district, it came crashing down.

Soon the mayor came out on stage and quieted the already silent crowd. He then welcomed Percy, who proudly took the stage and the microphone. The crowd stayed quiet.

"District Seven, it's an honor to be here," Percy began, and Archer rolled his eyes. He wasn't the only one. "I feel a special connection to this district because of my friendship with Carson Barkley." At the mention of his brother, Archer's focus locked on Percy. Whatever he had to say next would surely be worth hearing. "As you all know, I regretfully had to take Carson's life in the Games. It may have seemed bloodthirsty, but I promise you, I only was thinking of him. If we had continued like that, eventually Carson would have turned into a killer. And he wouldn't have wanted that. No one misses Carson more than I."

Archer had wanted to shout that he missed Carson the most. He wanted to rush the stage and pummel Percy until they dragged him away. He wanted to seek the revenge that had stuck in his mind like a leech. But he didn't. He turned and ran from the Justice Building, away through the forest, tears streaming from his eyes.

"Archer Barkley, District Seven!" He looked up, and a Gamemaker was waiting by the door to the gym, scanning the room. Archer stood, and walked calmly into the gym behind the man, trying to decide whose face he was going to imagine on the dummy during the trial. Percy, or his brother.

**Autumn Sinclair, District 11**

Autumn may have just walked into the training gym, but her mind was far away. She wasn't focused on the long table where ten Gamemakers were seated, waiting to determine her fate. She wasn't focused on the staff sitting across the room, waiting for her to wield it. She was only focused on the boy in the room next door, waiting for her to return. The boy who had just given Autumn her first kiss.

Earlier that morning, Autumn had exited the apartment alone. She'd waited for Bale, but upon inspection of his room, realized he'd left without her. Autumn could only assume he was still upset about the day before. After the card game, he'd locked himself in his room, and only appeared for dinner, and even then he only asked her to "pass the salt."

So, she rode the elevator by herself. Well, almost. She was joined by the female tribute from District Twelve. Opal, her name was. She stood on the far side of the elevator, twirling a piece of her bushy brown hair. Luckily, the trip from District Twelve's floor to the basement was short, because neither of them said a word.

That is, until Autumn was standing awkwardly in front of the elevator. Awkwardly, because as she entered the room, Travis had stood and beckoned her to his table. This drew Bale's attention, who gave her a hard look that clearly demanded her presence at his table. She looked desperately between the two. Sit with Bale, who made her feel secure? Sit with Travis, who so easily made her smile?

"Here, you can sit with me."

It was Opal that had given the invitation. She gestured at Autumn to follow her. After biting her lip, and giving one last look at each of the boys, Autumn thankfully obliged.

Now, she strode across the training room, straight towards the station that taught how to wield a staff. The station where she had met Travis a few days before. She picked up the same one she'd used that day. After testing the balance, she took her position in front of the dummy. She raised the staff, and started swinging.

Autumn had followed Opal to a table in the corner, where a boy with a square face and an almost-shaved head sat alone. Opal took a seat beside him, and Autumn followed suit across the table. "Hey, thanks for… you know…" she said, nodding towards Travis and Bale, who were both looking at her, confused.

Opal smiled softly, revealing her large front teeth. "No problem. You looked like you were in trouble. I'm Opal, and this is my district partner, Mica." He nodded at her politely, but never cracked a smile. "If you don't mind me asking, who were those two boys looking at you?"

Autumn bit her lip again, trying to decide how to answer. "One was my district partner, and the other's a… a friend."

Opal looked at her, slightly confused. "Why would you want to avoid your friends?"

"I – I don't know, to be honest."

Autumn slammed the staff into the dummy with all her might. She sidestepped and laid another hit in the small of the dummy's back. Then, she spun it over her head, and jammed the butt of the staff into the dummy's neck. Each of her hits was more powerful than the next.

She and the District Twelve tributes had sat mostly in silence, making a comment every now and then. They were all focused on the trials going on behind closed doors. One after another, tributes rose and entered the gym. Some exited confidently when they were done, others shuffled out embarrassed. Before entering his trial, Travis had winked at Autumn, and she wondered vaguely what he was going to do for the Gamemakers.

Finally, they called Bale Chordston, District Eleven. Across the room, he rose and walked slowly into the gym. Not once did he look back. Autumn stared at the closed door to the gym for a long time. She wondered if her district partner, no, her friend, was succeeding. She realized that in all of their discussions, Bale never mentioned what he'd do for his trial. In fact, there was very little Bale _had_ revealed about himself. He was always asking her questions, never answering any. Her wondering moved from the trial, to the boy himself. How much did she really know about him?

"Autumn Sinclair, District Eleven!"

She smiled at Opal and Mica, then walked towards the gym. As she passed Bale, who was walking back towards his table, he gave her shoulder a squeeze. She turned to say something to him, but he was already seated with his back to her. When she turned back around, she slammed into something solid. The chest of a boy she was used to running into.

"Travis?" she said, looking up at him. "What are you doing?"

"I wanted to wish you good luck," he said, smiling slightly. "I know you'll get a great score, if you swing a staff like you did the other day."

Autumn swallowed hard. He wasn't lying. She knew that. He really did want her to succeed, competition or not. "Travis, I…" But she never finished. Because that's when it happened. Travis pressed his lips to hers. It only lasted a second, then he was gone. There were no fireworks, no butterflies. She easily could have imagined it. She almost might have, had it not been for Bale. He was staring at her, a mixture of anger and sadness painted on his face.

Autumn dug her heels in, preparing to deliver the final blow with the staff. She twirled it around her wrist, stepped in a circle, and, grasping it with both hands, slammed it into the dummy's side. There was a cracking sound, and the staff splintered into hundreds of pieces.

Autumn barely noticed. She set the remainder of the weapon down, mumbled a barely audible "thank you" to the Gamemakers, and exited the room in a hurry. No looking back.

**Finn Hightower, District 4**

As far as he could remember, there was only once that Finn had beaten his brother. When Finn was eleven, he and Percy had been sparring on the dock near their house. Percy had been pushing Finn farther and farther back, until he was standing on the edge, about to tumble into the sea. Suddenly, Finn had parried a blow from Percy's wooden sword, and then swung around, hitting him behind the knee. Percy crashed to the dock, rolled, and dropped into the ocean.

Watching his brother splash about in the waves, Finn was filled with triumph. He was used to losing to his older brother, and it was a thrill to finally win, at least once. Percy, however, was humiliated. He dragged himself onto the shore and glared at Finn, before storming off. Needless to say, Finn never won again.

But as he thanked the Gamemakers and exited the gym, Finn was sure lightning had struck twice. His trial had been flawless. He'd sliced and diced until the dummies were no more than tattered pieces of cloth on poles. There was no way he could get less than a ten. And since Percy had gotten a nine, Finn was sure to beat his brother for the second time in his life.

He hoped Percy was watching.

But more than the score, this trial meant Finn was finally doing something on his own. If he succeeded in this, it was because of his talent. Not because Mayleen had pushed him to work harder. Not because Felix had pulled the strings above him. Not because the rest of the Hightowers had paved the way for him. No, this was all Finn, something he could take pride in.

Which was good, because the list of things Finn _wasn't_ proud of was growing longer and longer. And the number one item was standing right in front of him, waiting to complete her trial.

Mayleen looked terrible. She had dark gray bags under her eyes like she hadn't slept in weeks. Her usually straight brown hair was a ratted mess. Even her tanned skin looked pale and sunken. She brushed past Finn, meeting his eyes briefly. They were determined, but exhausted. Suddenly, Finn felt sick to his stomach, like he was the one that had been poisoned, not the other way around. He collapsed into a chair, not even noticing the people sitting around him. Except for one.

It was Archer. He was sitting across the room, staring at Finn. His gaze was unwavering, and there was something dark behind it. _He couldn't know, could he? _Finn thought. Surely he would have said something if he did…

There was a pressure on Finn's shoulder, and he wasn't at all surprised to turn and see Felix standing there. He was dressed in his usual suit and sunglasses, and his bald head shone like always. He nodded towards an empty corner of the room. Finn stood to follow him, dreading another task that it would shame him to complete.

This time, Finn spoke first. "So, are you pleased that my district partner is about to pass out during the middle of her trial?" He was fighting to keep the edge out of his voice. After they last spoke, he had learned how vicious Felix could get.

Luckily, Felix was back to his usual self. "Very. You're sure to outshine her in the scores now." That hardly put Finn at ease. "And don't worry. She'll be just fine for the interviews. No harm done."

Finn snorted. He wanted to tell Felix that harm was done. That Mayleen would lose popularity and probably sponsors because of her score. That if she found out it was Finn that poisoned her, it wouldn't matter he was her district partner and a Career, she would seek her vengeance. But he was polite and obedient, like a good puppet. "So is that why you wanted to talk to me?"

Felix smirked. "Not quite." He nodded behind Finn. "As you've probably noticed, Archer Barkley has been staring at you since he walked in the room. He found out who you are, and more importantly, he found out who your brother is." Finn's stomach was suddenly full of cement. It had been foolish to hope that Archer would never find out, and eventually someone else would remove him from the Games. But as it usually is, foolish hopes are the ones we cling to the hardest.

"Now, this issue between you two will undoubtedly be brought up during the interviews tomorrow," Felix continued. If at all possible, Finn's stomach hardened even more at the thought of the interviews he hadn't prepared for. "Unless you do something, sympathy will go to Archer, and you'll be left with nothing."

"And what exactly am I going to do?" Finn asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Apologize. Directly to Archer, before the audience can be painted any sort of picture. Do that, and you'll be set with the sponsors." Felix nodded, and like usual, left before Finn could give any kind of response. The boy just stood there, soaking in his next task.

It wasn't that he was afraid of Archer. It was that he understood Archer, probably better than most could. Because they had both sat on the edge of their seats, watching their brothers fight for their lives. They had gone through the same traumatic few weeks, just with very different endings. And Finn knew this apology, this public recognition of their bond, would drive the knife deeper. It might unhinge Archer, and Finn would have to watch the boy become something Finn easily could have been as well.

Finn stopped himself. Because in the Hunger Games, unhinging someone was only a matter of time.

**Penny Watt, District Three**

Four.

Penny was sitting on the plush couch in the District Three apartment, staring at the number flashing under her name. Next to her, Caster had busted up laughing. It was the night after the trials, and the scores were being displayed all across Panem. So far, the nation knew the results of Districts One, Two, and Three. Hera of District One was leading the pack, much to Penny's chagrin, with a solid eleven. Apollo and both of District Two had received tens.

Then they had arrived at Penny's district. Now, she knew she wasn't talented or particularly athletic, but she had hoped she'd picked up enough in her training with Iggy and Izzy to score decently with a bow. But when they had announced her name before the districts and flashed the number four, her heart plummeted. She was now being counted off by everyone, another tribute to be lost to the bloodbath. And maybe, they were right.

Caster looked perfectly satisfied as they flashed a bright seven under him. Penny could only wonder what he had done for his trial. But she wouldn't give him the pleasure of asking. So she kept her mouth shut and her eyes locked on the screen as they moved into District Four.

Penny was slightly pleased when Finn, the good-looking boy, challenged Hera by receiving an eleven as well. As they moved onto the female tribute, Mayleen, her jaw dropped, as did most of Panem's. District Four was known for its Careers. They were strong, handsome, and determined. But Penny was sure Mayleen was the first Career in a long time to receive a six.

The District Five tributes were nothing special. The boy, Travis, scored a six as well and the thirteen-year-old girl, Angela, scored a five. _Still both better than me, _Penny begrudgingly thought. But her anger grew into excitement as District Six came on the screen. Izzy and Iggy both scored nines with their deadly archery. That put Penny slightly at ease, knowing that her allies were so talented. But she erased that thought. She didn't want to rely on others to survive these Games. That's not why she had come.

Apparently, Caster was thinking the same thing. "Congrats, princess," he sneered. "You found the two people who might actually keep you alive, let alone put up with you."

Penny rounded on him. "And you think the Careers will let you mooch off them? Believe me, when they see you doing nothing, they'll cut you loose the hard way." Caster was about to spit back a retort, but they were both silenced by the television. District Seven's scores were being shown, and Archer Barkley had just scored the third eleven of the Games. Penny was stunned. That was a good Career score, let alone a tribute from Seven. His partner, Channing, surprised everyone too, earning a solid eight.

The distraction fizzled the argument between Caster and Penny, and they settled back into watching the scores in silence. Districts Eight, Nine, and Ten all stayed below a seven. Penny was particularly satisfied when little Bess from District Ten scored a three. True, Bess was three years younger than Penny, but at least she wasn't in last…

Autumn and Bale of District Eleven scored a nine and eight, respectively. Opal and Mica of Twelve both scored sevens, and then the anthem played and it was over. Without a word, Caster rose and wandered back to his room.

Penny remained alone on the couch, looking out at the lights of the Capitol. Ever since she'd seen her score, she had begun to wonder what her parents were thinking. If they were even watching. She could imagine Talon, sitting in his armchair and reading a novel, scoffing at his daughter's inadequacy. She could imagine Sarah sipping a glass of tea, horrified by the idea that her porcelain doll of a daughter did something physical. Even in the Capitol, she could feel their judgment. And she missed them terribly.

Tears began to stream down Penny's face, and she couldn't stop them. She had been pushing and pushing away her emotions, but now the dam had burst. She buried her face in her hands, and out of the darkness, faces emerged. Hera's laced with anger, her parents fused with disapproval, Caster's glowing with ridicule, and Izzy and Iggy's etched with sympathy. It was all too much, and Penny wanted nothing more than to go home.

Home.

Penny imagined what it would be like, had she stayed there. Right now, her mother would be planning her wedding, tossing her different fabrics and invitations. Her father would be having a drink with Vince's father, sealing the deal even further. Vince would be out on the town, probably seducing some poor girl. It was ridiculous, it was frivolous, it was unbearable. But it was all she knew.

"Don't give up yet."

Penny glanced up, and was absolutely dumbfounded to see Caster standing near the wall. "What?" she muttered back, stifling her sobs.

Caster looked awkwardly at his hands. "The Games… they're terrible, but if you go into them like this… they'll rip you apart and… just don't give up yet. You're a lot better than this." And that was it. He nodded and turned to leave, but she stopped him.

"Caster?" she said, her eyes drying by the second.

He looked back over his shoulder. "What?

"Thanks."

**There it is! I hope you enjoyed the trials, mental and physical. These guys have a lot to think about, and not a lot of time, because next up is the interviews! And then we're headed into the games. I still would love to know which tribute is your favorite, out of all. Feel free to tell me in a review. Otherwise, hold out for Chapter Seven! **


	7. Reflections

**Hello, readers! It's been quite the break since my last update, but I just stumbled across this story again and fell back in love with it. So I'm going to keep updating and I hope you'll keep reading. Enjoy chapter seven!**

**Chapter Seven: Reflections**

**Penny Watt, District 3**

For the first time since this entire experience started, Penny was excited.

So far, Penny had been scorned by her family, targeted by the Careers, and embarrassed by the training evaluations. She'd been hit, pulled, scrubbed, and squeezed into tight outfits. She'd felt alone, angry, and weak.

All those emotions washed away, however, as she rode the train with the 23 other tributes across the Capitol towards the theater, where the interviews would take place. See, if there was one thing her childhood had prepared Penny for, it was talking in front of people. The Watt family was constantly in the press, which required Penny to, reluctantly of course, make speeches on her father's behalf.

The interviews were finally something she could handle.

The train rumbled into the station by the theater, and the tributes were quickly ushered into the building. They were led, along with their escorts, stylists, and mentors, down many hallways until they wound up in a large, circular room. A constant rumble reverberated the walls. Penny could only assume it was the huge crowd that awaited them.

The tributes were lined up by district, girls then boys, in front of a staircase that led up to the stage above. Suddenly, there was a roar. Penny glanced at the television on the wall and saw the host, Bacchus de Pinot, stride on stage. He wore a ridiculous pink suit with tails so long they dragged the ground. His long white-blonde hair was braided down the back, tied off with a pink bow. His lips were painted in the same colo and stretched across his face to reveal a dazzling white smile. A perfect representation of the Capitol, Penny thought.

After a quick introduction, Bacchus welcomed his first guest. Penny scowled as Hera strode on stage with her head held high. Although she resented it with every fiber of her being, she had to admit Hera looked beautiful. Her hair fell like a waterfall down her back. She wore a black dress with a train that flowed behind her. On her head sat a black tiara. Penny's first thought was that she looked like an angel of death.

Her stomach sank as she realized how true that statement might be.

Bacchus spent all three minutes of the interview praising Hera, while she coldly looked over the audience. Penny had a feeling Capitol people were currently tripping over themselves to bet on her. Then it was over, and she came gliding down the stairs. Apollo in a matching suit passed her on his way up.

The next three interviews were unremarkable. Then suddenly, it was Penny's turn. She swallowed, remembering this was her time to shine, before starting on the stairs. As she ascended, Caster called after her.

"Try not to mutter, princess."

Penny stopped, turned, and looked Caster dead in the eyes.

"Watch how it's done." Then she continued up the stairs and on stage.

Penny had severely underestimated the size of the crowd awaiting her. The theater extended back farther than she could see. Rows and rows of colorful Capitol people politely applauded as she walked across the stage to greet Bacchus. It was nothing compared to the roar Hera received, but Penny had expected as much. She proudly shook Bacchus's hand and sat down.

"So, Penny," Bacchus began, crossing his legs, "I've been very interested to meet you. How is it that the daughter of one of the most wealthy families in District Three wound up in the Hunger Games?"

After talking it over with Copper, her mentor, Penny had decided wit was her best friend in this interview. So she pretended to look affronted. "Bacchus, how rude. I think you mean _the _wealthiest family in District Three," she said.

It worked. The crowd erupted into laughter, as did Bacchus. "My mistake. But really, what made you want to volunteer?"

"Well, Bacchus, sometimes you just feel the need to prove yourself. Besides, what heiress wouldn't want to give up her fortune and enter a battle to the death?" She smirked as the crowd roared again.

Suddenly, Penny felt sick. She had just made a joke of an event that claimed 23 lives every year. She was playing right into the hands of the Capitol, becoming just like them. Penny wanted to sprint off stage and back to her room. But she remained there, smiling. This was her best shot to get sponsors, to help her survive the coming trial.

"Very true!" Bacchus exclaimed with a laugh. "However, a fortune isn't going to help you in the arena. What's your strategy?"

Penny knew this question was coming and fired off her answer immediately. "Well that's simple. I'm going to charm my opponents into submission!" She blew a kiss to the audience, who erupted in laughter once more.

Bacchus grabbed her hand in both of his. "And I sincerely hope that goes well for you. One last question: what advice do you think your father, the famous Tallon Watt, would want to give you?"

That, Penny hadn't been prepared for. Her smile faded and she felt her face flush. But strangely, she had an answer. It was something Tallon had told her throughout her childhood, whenever she fell and scraped her knee or a boy was mean to her at school. He would look her straight in the eyes and repeat the same phrase. Every time.

"Er, I suppose he would tell me," Penny said, looking Bacchus in the eyes the way Tallon had, "to keep my head high, because if your spirit can't be broken then you can't be beaten." The crowd cheered their approval, but to Penny, they sounded far away.

"Very wise words. I wish you all the best." Bacchus turned and beamed at the audience. "Penny Watt from District Three!"

Penny hadn't quite expected the roar that would follow that statement. But the Capitol people waved and screamed and cheered as she walked off stage. As she wandered down the stairs, she forced herself to put her father out of her mind. She should be happy. She had done the job she had come here to do.

The Capitol loved her.

**Finn Hightower, District 4**

As the interviews ticked by overhead, Finn wasn't watching the television. He could care less what fluff the other tributes were spewing to the crowd. He was lost in thought, staring at a boy five tributes behind him.

Finn had been instructed to apologize to Archer. This, Felix had assured, would make him look more personable and, better yet, dissolve any rivalry growing in the Capitol's mind. At this rate, the Capitol would surely try to pit them against each other. While Finn was positive he could take the lanky boy from District 7 in a fair fight, Felix didn't want to risk it.

So he was going to go on camera and say, "I'm sorry."

Finn's mind drifted back six years, to when the history between the Barkleys and the Hightowers officially began. Finn was sitting with his mother, father, and little brother Reef, watching the eldest Hightower in the 15th Hunger Games.

Currently, Percy was sitting alone in a cave, dying.

That year had been peculiar because many of the other tributes had been as strong as the Careers. The bloodbath, then, had been especially bloody, eliminating all but two Careers and giving Percy a nasty gash on his side. He stumbled through the rocky mountain arena, trying to get as far from the carnage as possible. He finally found a cave tucked in the mountainside. He fell against the rock wall and slid down it.

The Hightowers didn't know how long they watched Percy sit there, wondering if this would be the moment they lost a son and a brother. After what felt like a lifetime, another boy wandered into the cave until he noticed Percy and stopped.

They held each other's gaze for a long moment, sizing each other up, measuring the danger. Then Carson decided Percy was too weak and Percy decided Carson wasn't going to kill him immediately, and the moment passed. Carson walked slowly up to Percy and knelt at his side. Carson quietly examined his wound.

"What got you?" Carson asked, tilting his head.

"A sword," Percy wheezed, "that girl from Eight."

Carson pulled off his pack and rummaged through it. After a moment, he removed a little silver tin. He unscrewed the top and offered its pink, gelatinous contents to Percy.

"Here. Rub this on it. It'll heal it. Mostly," Carson said. Percy gave him a skeptical look.

"Why would you help me?"

Carson shrugged. "Because you need this to live, and I need an ally."

Not wanting to push the matter, Percy scooped out some of the gel and rubbed it on the gash. At first it sizzled and Percy screamed in pain. Finn had a horrid thought that his brother had been tricked into an even earlier death. And then the wound began to seal. Percy stared at Carson, the gears turning in his head.

"You're Carson, the boy from Seven."

Carson smirked. "Yeah, and you're Percy, the Career. Allies?" Carson stuck out his hand?

After a moment, Percy shook it.

Someone prodded Finn in the back and knocked him out of his trance. He looked at the screen and realized Mayleen was waving goodbye, which meant it was Finn's turned. As he climbed the stairs, he vaguely wondered if she had been able to win back some sponsors after her derailed trial the day before. She passed him on the stairs and smirked, and Finn's stomach plummeted further.

As he walked on stage, he was met with an eruption of applause. He smiled and bowed, and then strode over and shook hands with Bacchus. They both sat, and Bacchus turned to him.

"So Finn, I hear you're one of the favorites this year! How do feel about that?" Bacchus asked, his eyes glinting. Finn absent-mindedly noticed they were pink as well.

"Well, I sure hope I can make you guys happy," was all Finn said. He was trying to remain light-hearted, knowing what he had to say in a few minutes. The crowd cheered their approval.

"Even against the mighty Hera?" Bacchus said.

Finn assumed she was the other favorite then. He was quiet a moment, developing a response. He had been so focused on Archer and Mayleen, he had hardly thought of the other Careers. He couldn't trash Hera in front of the entire Capitol unless he wanted to blow a hole in his own alliance. But he couldn't appear weak either.

"Hera's a very strong competitor. I hope we don't have to face each other. But if we do, it's going to be quite a show," Finn replied, smiling.

"Very political of you," Bacchus laughed. "So the major news around you, Finn, is that your brother and Archer Barkley's brother were in the Games together six years ago. In fact, they were allies. Did you know this?"

Finn guessed this was the question the audience had been waiting for. Suddenly, you could hear a pin drop in the theater. Finn nodded slowly. "Yes, I did."

"And how do you think that's going to affect the Games?"

"I'm going to try to remain in the present, and not think about the past," Finn said. This was it. His only opportunity to do as Felix asked. He thought about forgetting the whole thing. Wrapping up the interview and walking off stage. They would proceed into the Games and Archer would have a fair shot.

But then something stirred in him. It was the moment in the 15th Hunger Games he had just thought about. As much as he hated Felix, another emotion was fighting its way to the surface inside Finn. Guilt. His memory had made him realize something he hadn't even begun to consider.

He really was sorry.

Carson had helped his brother survive. He had healed him, fought at his side, protected him. And Percy had killed his ally without a fair fight. Without a second thought. It was cruel. The more Finn saw of Archer, the more he resented his brother. Percy still could have won beating Carson fair and square. And this poor boy wouldn't be so tangled up in rage and revenge.

So Finn looked out at the audience, hoping Archer was listening. "I would like to say, thought, that on behalf of my brother, I am sorry." Finn swallowed and continued. "What he did was cruel. Carson was a noble competitor. But I am not my brother, and I hope that I can be treated as an individual."

The buzzer went off. Finn and Bacchus shook hands, and Finn exited the stage to a roaring crowd.

**Archer Barkley, District 7**

Fury.

Hot and fresh, it coursed through Archer, tingling his every nerve. It blocked out the other tributes and tunneled his vision to the screen set on the wall. The screen, where Finn Hightower had just publicly apologized to him.

How dare he? How dare he remind the entirety of Panem about the worst moment of Archer's life? How dare he pretend to slightly understand the pain Archer had gone through? How dare he even say Carson's name? No, that apology had the opposite effect than what was intended. Finn wanted to quiet the storm, but he had only succeeded in sticking up a lightning rod.

What was worse was an old emotion that had been lying dormant in him for years had begun to resurface. Grief. Archer had already started to feel it, being in the same room as his brother, training in the same space. But hearing the flesh and blood of Percy Hightower saying Carson's name brought it crashing over him like a tsunami. And floating in with the wave of emotion was a memory.

Archer was sitting on a log deep in the forests of District Seven. It was someplace to which he came often to think. The tree had broken over a creek, so he could stick his feet in the running water. Sunlight tainted green filtered down through the branches. It was peaceful.

Archer had just left Percy, the Victory Tour, and the Town Square behind and sprinted straight here. For a while, he stared down at his 10-year-old reflection in the creek. However, he wasn't alone long. Soon, a girl his age with fair skin and dazzling blue eyes came wandering through the trees.

"You can run awful fast," Cara said, as she slipped off her shoes and climbed up onto the log. She balanced her way to the middle and sat down next to Archer. She could see he had tear tracks running down his cheeks. He tried quickly to rub them off.

"You don't have to do that," she said, staring at him though the reflection in the creek. "I know what crying looks like. I did a lot of it last year."

"Why?" Archer asked, staring in turn at her reflection.

"My sister, Ivy, was killed by the Peacekeepers. I couldn't stop crying for weeks."

Archer didn't even know Cara had a sister. Then again, he hadn't known a lot about her then. They were always friendly towards each other at school, but that was it. He wanted to say that he was sorry, but he now knew from experience how unhelpful those two words were. So he instead met her reflection's eyes and said, "I miss him."

"I know."

"I couldn't listen to Percy talk anymore," Archer continued. "I hate him. He killed my brother. I wish I could kill him." Archer saw Cara's reflection sadden. "What?"

"You shouldn't say that."

Archer was suddenly angry. He glared down at the water. "Why not? You don't wish you could kill the Peacekeepers who killed your sister?"

Cara shook her head. "No," she replied softly. "Why would I want that? If you kill someone for killing someone else, all that gives you is more dead people. I miss Ivy a lot, but she wouldn't want me to be angry forever. I don't think Carson would either."

"You didn't even know Carson."

Cara gently placed her fair-skinned hand on his. "No, I didn't. But I watched him on TV a lot. He reminded me of Ivy."

The anger dissipated, and Archer began to cry again. "If I can't be mad, then what should I do?"

For the first time since they'd started talking, Cara looked up from the reflections and her blue eyes met his green. Those blue eyes. They would make it so easy for Archer to fall for Cara five years from now. Whenever she had something important to say, she would freeze him with this same look. He would never grow tired of it.

"Move on, I guess," she said simply. "But stop being angry. 'Cause I don't think you're an angry person, Archer."

Cara had made it sound so easy. To just let it go and move on. She had done it with Ivy and the Peacekeepers, and she almost convinced Archer he could do it with Carson. He wanted to believe her so badly. But as he watched Finn walk off stage after his interview, he knew it was impossible.

Finn came down the stairs from the stage. As he made his way to the exit, he nodded at Archer. It took everything in Archer's power not to leap across the room and pummel Finn. Instead, he stared straight ahead. He spent the next few interviews lost in thought, formulating a response to the statement Finn had just made.

Finally, Channing was descending the stair. It was his turn. He adjusted Cara's acorn pin on his leaf green suit, and then climbed on stage.

Archer figured he'd drawn some attention with his score, but he had no idea how much. The crowd went nuts when they saw him, so much so that he almost stumbled backward. He quickly recovered and walked over to greet Bacchus. The man in pink shook his hand hardily and they sat. It almost took a full 30 seconds to quiet the crowd.

"Well, they do seem interested in you, don't they?" Bacchus began, leaning back to inspect the tall brunette boy in front of him.

"I guess so," Archer replied.

"It must be that eleven you scored!" To this, the crowd roared again. "That's as good as Hera and Finn. Think you can challenge them in the games?" Bacchus asked.

"Well, I'm sure gonna try."

Bacchus leaned in with a sparkle in his eyes. Archer had no doubt what was coming. "Now, speaking of Finn, he just made quite the statement a few minutes ago. Did you hear it?"

Archer's face grew dark. He wanted to scream, _Of course I did, you idiot! ___Instead, he just nodded.

That wasn't enough for Bacchus. "Do you have anything to say back?"

The spotlights glinted off the acorn pinned to Archer's chest. For a second, he thought about taking Cara's advice and letting the anger go. He could easily just say he forgave Finn, and then Archer could go into the Games with a level head. But the thought crossed his mind that Percy was sitting at home right now, comfortably watching this interview. That should be his brother. That should be Carson.

"Losing my brother was the worst thing that's ever happened to - to me," Archer began shakily. He wasn't trained to speak in front of crowds like the Careers. "It – It changed me and my family forever. I promised myself I – I would avenge my brother. So, tomorrow Finn and I go into the arena together, just like Percy and Carson."

Archer looked out at the crowd, hopefully meeting the gaze of both Hightowers. Then, with perfect clarity, he said, "And history won't repeat itself."

**Autumn Sinclair, District 11**

Autumn hated wearing dresses.

True, she had worn one for the parade. But that was less of a dress, and more a jumble of vines and leaves haphazardly thrown together to resemble a pumpkin stem. Now, she was wearing a full on, floor-length gown. It was golden, with golden feathers making up the lower half. Her stylist tried to convince her it was supposed to look like wheat blowing in the wind. Autumn, however, thought it made her look like the goose that laid the golden egg. The dress just added to the mounting anxiety she had about her coming interview.

Dresses just didn't fit her. They were too constricting. They came with a whole slew of expectations and etiquette. Autumn preferred to be in her work uniform. It was comfortable and she could move around in it, climb trees and such. This mentality may have contributed to why no boys had liked her until now.

The boy from Ten, Colt, was coming down the stairs, which meant it was Autumn's turn. She started up towards the stage.

Until now. What did that even mean? Did she honestly think Travis and Bale _liked _her? This was the Hunger Games. There were no crushes, no feelings, not when either you or everyone around you would be dead within a few weeks. Thinking like that would be suicide.

Still… Autumn couldn't help but feel drawn to these boys. Bale, the strong farmer, the boy she could depend on, someone who would fight at her side through thick and thin. Travis, the mystery, the guy who surprised her, someone who believed in her. She had started to care for both, which she didn't really know would be possible in a span of six days.

She walked on stage and was met with moderate applause. She could tell the audience was growing bored of the interviews.

Autumn's mind wandered to yesterday, when one of these boys had actually kissed her. She inwardly laughed, thinking how ironic it was that her first kiss happened in a gruesome battle to the death. At first, she had been mad, thinking Travis had been trying to throw her off her game. But in reality, it just fueled her fire. And then late last night, she stayed awake remembering the kiss and realized how much she enjoyed it.

That thought frightened her. She had a family to protect. She couldn't be getting distracted by silly boys. If Travis came between her and victory, she couldn't hesitate to take him out. The same went for Bale. She was here for Zander, and Eliza, and her parents, and the twins. She wasn't here for a relationship.

On stage, Autumn shook Bacchus's hand and sat down. He began asking her questions, which she answered absent-mindedly.

Suddenly, she felt a deep-seeded anger start to awaken in her. It wasn't that she just couldn't have a relationship here; it was that she might not get a relationship ever. If she lost, she would never go on a date. She would never get kissed again. She would never get married, and she would never make her siblings aunts and uncles. All because she was unlucky enough to get selected as tribute.

Autumn wanted to be mad at Zander. Technically, if he hadn't been stealing, she wouldn't have been forced to volunteer. But she quickly dismissed that thought. It wasn't Zander's fault their family was starving. That responsibility fell solely on the government; on the mayor who had forced her to volunteer to save his own daughter, on the escorts and stylists who so happily played along with this torture, on the president who upheld the tradition year after year, and on the people before her who devoured this sick form of entertainment. It was their fault.

"This is disgusting," Autumn said. There was an audible gasp from the crowd. Whatever the question was Bacchus had poised to her, that hadn't been the answer.

"I'm sorry?" Bacchus said, almost afraid of what was coming.

"This whole thing is disgusting." Normally, Autumn wouldn't have the courage to speak up like this. But that anger was pulsing through her veins, encouraging her. "You all get to live so happily here, while we throw ourselves into a coliseum and slaughter one another! For entertainment! It's disgusting!"

Bacchus was visibly signaling to the cameramen to cut away. But Autumn didn't care. The people in the theater could still hear her. "I have parents. I have four siblings, and I may never see them again. All because you people are bored! Well, to hell with that. I may have to fight in the arena tomorrow, but I refuse to be a performer for you all. Not when I have days to live." With that she stood and strode off stage without a second glance.

Downstairs, she was met with chaos. The escorts and stylists were running around, trying to calm their tributes down. Some of the tributes themselves were applauding or hollering at her. Others were laughing or looking grim, knowing she had just signed her death sentence. Program assistants were beside themselves. They still had three more interviews to get through but the crowd was in uproar. Autumn heard someone say a lady had even fainted. To that, Autumn smiled.

Jackson, her mentor, grabbed her at the bottom of the stairs and dragged her to a corner. Bale glanced sadly over at her, before heading on stage.

"What the hell was that?" Jackson started.

Autumn just shrugged. "I was being honest. Isn't that what you're supposed to be in an interview?"

"Don't start with me, girl. Do you realized what you've just done? Not only have you put a death warrant on your head, but maybe on Bale's as well," Jackson said.

That stopped her. She knew she was going to make the Games more difficult for herself, but she hadn't wanted to put Bale in harm's way. She began to feel sick to her stomach.

"On top of that, you've ensured that these Games are going to be infinitely harder than they were originally. The Capitol has to prove that they're still in charge. The challenges are going to be awful," he continued.

Autumn felt like she had been hit by a train. Because of her, everyone would die a much more tragic, much more horrifying death. She had been impulsive, and now the rest of the tributes would pay the price. She can vividly picture her mother scolding her for not thinking ahead.

"I hope your little outburst was worth it," Jackson said, looking at the screen where Bale was doing his interview. The air had definitely changed. Bacchus was much more hostile, the crowd less accepting. And it was Autumn fault. _Capitol: 2, Autumn: 0_, she thought, wanting to vomit. "Because tomorrow your going into the arena, and it's going to be more horrifying than you could ever imagine."

**That's it! Now that the interviews are over, the real action can begin. Next chapter, out heroes head into the bloodbath! I really like the arena I cooked up, so I hope you'll keep reading to find out what it is. Review and try to guess what the arena's gonna be! Look for chapter eight soon!**


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